Mass Effect 1. Chapter 1

_Author's note: After an absence of several months, I'm reposting and reworking this story. Five chapters in total. Three are complete. I will be trying for weekly updates. To those who read the first time, I can only say thank you for your patience. To those who never read it, enjoy!_

_This would not have been possible without fongiel, Sable Phoenix, and themarshal._

* * *

><p>Miranda checked the address one last time and looked up at the skyscraper towering above her. Liara had done well for herself. The Halledan Towers had opened the previous autumn, and businesses had raced to claim office space here. The location was excellent—within a few blocks of most government buildings and any officials that might need bribing—but it was a status symbol as well, proof that you needed easy access to all those officials. And Liara's office was on the twenty-first floor.<p>

She'd been surprised to learn of Liara's change in career. The buying and selling of information was, at best, a morally ambiguous business. Liara had shown great physical courage three months ago when she'd retrieved Shepard's corpse, and no one could question her dedication or her biotic skill. She was also fiercely idealistic. She'd felt guilty about Feron's death even though the drell was just another agent for the Shadow Broker whose loyalty had been for sale to the highest bidder. Miranda had half-expected her to be dashing across the galaxy in search of his corpse. At least her current occupation made her easy to track down. She took one last moment to enjoy the feel of the sun on her face and stepped inside.

The lobby served the same purpose as the lobby of every other major building in Nos Astra: impress or intimidate newcomers and inspire pride in those fortunate enough to work there. Halledan succeeded better than most. The floor has been overlaid with green Thessian marble. A vaguely humanoid statue, no doubt created by the flavor-of-the-week-darling of the art world, dominated the center of the room. The air was clean and cold and Miranda instinctively pulled her jacket close. Maidens and matrons in brightly colored dresses hurried past. Miranda almost smiled. Illium's business wear seemed to show more cleavage every year. A tall asari who couldn't have been older than one hundred and fifty sported a dress the color of champagne with a slit down the middle that left half of each breast exposed. Well, that was one way to distract her opposition during a negotiation session. Miranda wondered if the temperature bothered her, but perhaps the showing off was worth it.

The elevator was packed. Miranda squeezed into a spot against the back wall. Anxiety curled in her gut. She'd never expected to see Liara again, and certainly not just three months after the operation on Omega. That was before the Lazarus Project's latest attempt at a purely organic reconstruction of Shepard's nervous system had failed. They would be moving to a bio-synthetic fusion, augmenting various low-level processes with a VI. Theoretically, Shepard's personality and reasoning abilities would remain unaffected; but she would no longer be able to simply compare a scan of Shepard's brain taken before her death with a scan of the finished product to ensure her personality and memories were intact. Miranda needed to know every scrap of detail she could find about Shepard. Some things were a matter of public record. Others could be excavated and pieced together from classified Alliance intel. The important things were murkier. No intelligence report could tell Miranda what had been going through Shepard's mind when she'd left Ashley Williams to her death or why she had set the Rachni Queen free. She needed the memories themselves. She needed Liara.

How she was going to get Liara to provide those memories was as yet unknown. The elevator doors opened, and Miranda took a deep breath. She would find a way. She had never failed to complete a mission before. The Illusive Man believed that Shepard was the best option for combating the Reaper threat. He needed Shepard back exactly as she was when she defeated Sovereign. Miranda would deliver, no matter the cost.

Liara's offices were surprisingly modest. The outer office was bare of any of the expensive marble or art that had characterized the lobby. A large desk dominated the center of the room. A maiden Miranda supposed was Liara's secretary sat hunched over a console, the light turning her skin a sickly orange. Elaborate facial markings that reminded Miranda vaguely of warpaint covered her forehead and cheeks. Her dress was modest by Illium standards, covering everything from her neck to her shoes. The colors were dark and didn't quite suit her. If Miranda hadn't been staring right at her, she would've faded into the background. Odd, that. People came to Illium to be noticed. This one might bear watching.

Miranda approached her desk and stood over her. The secretary did not immediately look up. Probably her way of throwing Liara's potential clients off balance and giving her employer an edge in negotiating. It might work on an overly anxious middle manager, but not Miranda. She remained where she was.

Finally, the secretary looked up. Her gaze swept over Miranda. Once, twice, as if she were information to be sorted and cataloged. "Can I help you?" Her voice was soft and slightly fawning. Perfect for her job.

Miranda rested one hand on the edge of the desk. The metal was cool against her bare skin. "My name is Miranda Lawson. I'm here to see Dr. T'Soni." She disliked using her normal identity on missions—especially on Ilium, where anything she said or did might be recorded—but it couldn't be helped. Liara had known her as Miranda Lawson.

The secretary started. "So you're Miranda? Liara spoke of you often. She said you helped her with something after her girlfriend died, but she wouldn't give me the details. She'll be delighted you've come, I'm sure. Friends are rare enough in her job."

Miranda thinned her lips and took in the new information. Liara spoke of her often. Strange. Miranda had assumed she'd want to forget everything associated with the operation on Omega and the Lazarus Project. Stranger still that she'd spoken of Miranda in a way that led the secretary to believe that they were friends. Liara had seemed consumed over her misguided guilt at handing Shepard's body to Cerberus the last time Miranda had seen her. No doubt Liara had imagined dozens of atrocities that Shepard would be forced to perform as payment for her resurrection. She had assumed Liara would hate Cerberus, and Miranda had been the face Cerberus for her. If she had spoken of Miranda with fondness... She closed her eyes. No. It meant nothing. No matter how much she wanted it to. Such thoughts would only be a distraction from her true purpose.

Still, it couldn't hurt to get a better sense of Liara's state of mind. Miranda lacked the charisma or oratorical skill to force Liara to do what she wanted by sheer force of personality. They would have to negotiate, and negotiations favored the party who was better prepared. The secretary might know something useful. "I haven't seen Liara in a very long time. I understand she's done well for herself."

The secretary nodded and smiled. Her teeth had the blinding whiteness normally found only in advertisements for various teeth whitening products. "Indeed. Liara has established herself as a promising information broker. There are those who say she's too ambitious, and that causes difficulty for her in some circles. She is very driven and resourceful. In time, she could become the most powerful woman on Illium if she weren't so focused on her personal goals."

"And what are her personal goals?"

The smile turned sly. "Why don't I let her tell you about that? She's finishing up a call to a client, but I'm sure she won't mind if you go on in."

Miranda responded with a smile of her own, betraying none of her frustration. Of course the secretary wouldn't tell her so easily. Secrets were Illium's unofficial currency, never given away freely but always bartered for something. Miranda, as yet, had nothing to offer. "I'll do that."

Liara's office was almost as spare as her secretary's. A coffeemaker had been shoved into one corner of the room. This smelled of the grounds still lingered in the air. The desk was crafted from unpainted metal. Sturdy enough, but unlikely to win Liara a place in the list of Nos Astra's most fashionable offices. The unoccupied chair similarly looked as if it had been designed to be used rather than as a showpiece. It was too well-padded and lacked the gleaming whiteness currently seen in the business fashion magazines.

Liara stood with her back to Miranda, facing a holographic image of a salarian. Perhaps it was merely a trick of the light, but her skin seemed paler than Miranda remembered. She smoothed a wrinkle from her dress. "I'll get you the information you want. I just need a bit more time." She didn't sound frightened, only tired. No, exhausted.

"And what do the asari consider 'a bit more time'?" The salarians lips curled into a sneer. "My clan doesn't have the luxury of waiting months while you find a way to get the Palon family genetic data. Reproductive contract negotiations start in four days."

"You'll have it by then. I give you my word."

"I see." He fixed his gaze on Liara and was silent for a moment. "I hope you are more honorable than your mother."

Liara's shoulders tensed. Her left hand clenched and unclenched. A flicker of biotic power passed over her and died just as quickly. "I'll contact you when I have the data." She waved a hand, and the transmission ended. She turned, and Miranda got her first good look at Liara T'Soni in months.

There was no mistaking it now; she was paler, her flesh a sickly teal. Her freckles stood out prominently against her skin. Her pupils seemed larger as well. Dilated. _She's been taking stims, and recently._The emerald green dress she wore was modest by human standards, and downright prudish by Illium's. Everything from her throat downwards had been carefully covered up. Miranda frowned. Liara had always seemed the type to be more comfortable in her labcoat or armor than in a dress. She belonged at a dig site somewhere, poking through ruins light years away from civilization, not playing at being an information broker. It would've been easier to believe that the woman before her was a different person entirely.

Her eyes, though, were the same brilliant blue that Miranda remembered. Her fingers were still long and thin, almost delicate, though the small calluses betrayed of decades spent exploring and excavating. An old lust raced through Miranda, and she inhaled sharply. Liara had not changed quite enough. She was still beautiful. Miranda had hoped that time or distance would cure her of her inconvenient attraction. Obviously not. She shoved the feeling back down among all the other half-buried emotions she had no time for. Securing Liara's cooperation was critical to the success of the Lazarus Project. Now wasn't the time to fantasize about things she would never have. She nodded at Liara. "Good to see you again."

Liara simply stared at her, as if she were the one who had risen from the dead. She opened her mouth. Nothing came out. Not precisely the warm welcome that her secretary had predicted fo her but better than being thrown out on sight. Miranda tried again. "Mind if I sit down?"

The utter banality of the request was enough to galvanize Liara into speech. "I—yes, of course." She sat behind the desk, while Miranda perched on the edge of the chair opposite. She watched as Liara arranged her features into something Miranda assumed was supposed to be friendliness but looked like anxiety. "How are you?" _How's Shepard? Have you brought her back?_ remained unspoken, but Miranda heard it all the same.

"Well enough. We've confirmed Shepard is salvageable, though there have been complications. I need your help."

That got Liara's attention. She went very still. "Are you insane?" she whispered. "You can't talk about Shepard here. This is Illium. Everything we say is recorded."

Miranda smiled. "Really?" The omni-tool she normally used on covert missions was less powerful and more specialized than the one she used on Lazarus Station, no different from the ones used by thousands of techs every day in Nos Astra and therefore far less likely to attract attention than a military-grade model. Still, it would do the job. She pressed a button. "For the next ten minutes, any listening devices on this floor are going to be assailed with so much junk data that we'll go unnoticed."

"Won't that attract suspicion?"

"Eventually. Fortunately, there are about a hundred people in this building alone who would dearly love to have a conversation without anyone listening in and have the skills to pull it off. I just bought you ten minutes worth of Nos Astra's most precious commodity: privacy."

Liara blinked. "Just like that? Though I suppose you must be skilled at foiling surveillance devices in your line of work."

"Among other things." The truth was she had always been skilled at using and subverting computers, omni-tools, and similar devices. How could she not be? It was in her blood. Her father was the President and CEO of Ellison Computing, and he had expected his designated heir to understand the devices they made. That her studies had made her even more useful as a Cerberus operative was a delicious irony. "I'll tell you all about it later. Right now, I need your help." She leaned forward slightly, careful not to overbalance. "Shepard needs your help."

Liara picked up a datapad and glanced at it. She did not look at Miranda. "I killed people to get Shepard back. I let Feron be captured so I could get Shepard back." Her voice was soft and monotone. "I let Cerberus have her even after I knew what you would do with her. Tell me, what else do you need me to do?"

Miranda steepled her fingers and thought. There was no way to make what she was asking less enormous that it was. She doubted Liara was the sort to appreciate some pretty lie. No tricks, then. "Shepard's nervous system was in worse shape than we thought. There was significant decay of large swaths of her brain. We were able to offload some reflexes and sensory data reception onto a VI, but—"

Liara went even paler, if that were possible. She clutched the edge of her desk with both hands. "You're turning her into some _cyborg_?"

Miranda felt the skin on the back of her arms prickle. Not this again. "Her higher brain functions—memory, personality, and such—will still be controlled by her brain. And what would it matter if we had to upload some of those higher brain functions? She would still be Shepard. My job is to bring her back exactly as she was on the day the Normandy was destroyed. I refuse to let that mission fail because we're limiting ourselves to organic means."

Liara pushed back her chair and stood up. "Are you certain? I'm beginning to believe I was right the first time. We should have let the dead rest. I was too blinded by grief to see that. It feels unnatural somehow."

Miranda bristled. Unnatural. Freak of nature. Inhuman. Insults used by those who feared change. She'd heard them all her life and done stupid things before she'd learned that nothing she could do would ever prove a thing to those Luddites. The wound was old and well-healed. Mostly. "No more 'unnatural' than a greybox or biotic implant." _I'm as human as anyone. Shepard will be human, too. Please, be as intelligent as I think you are. Please._

Liara turned back to the window. "I know," she whispered. "You didn't come here for my permission. What do you really want?"

Miranda stood and followed her to the window. She owed it to Liara to at least look at her when she asked. Outside, aircars zipped by. The trading floor spread out below them like a cross between a fairytale kingdom and a bazaar that sold everything from designer clothing to red sand. The late afternoon sun bathed everything in a reddish-gold glow. Asari, volus, and humans blurred together in an indistinct mass of dots no bigger than her thumb. Oriana might be down there now buying her parents an anniversary gift. This was what she was fighting for. All these people—Oriana, Niket, everyone she had ever known and loved—would die if the Reapers were not defeated. Liara would die. Miranda's throat tightened. No, none of them would die. Not if she had her way.

"As I was saying, we were able to transfer some functions to VI, but it makes a simple before-and-after brain scan useless. I need an alternate comparison method. We'll be running extensive psychological testing, but the standard tests won't tell us everything we need to know. She placed a hand on Liara's shoulder, just as she had months ago when they'd first seen Shepard's corpse. Her dress was thinner than the lab coat and this time she could feel the warmth of her skin beneath the material. "I know she was your lover. I know you melded with her. You've touched her mind. That means you know her better than anyone." She took a deep breath. "And that means you're the only one who can help me. I need your memories of Shepard."

Liara's eyes widened, but she remained silent. Miranda glanced at her chrono. Four minutes gone already. "I know it's a lot to ask..."

Liara laughed at that. It wasn't an ordinary laugh. It was the slightly hysterical laugh of someone who was about to either burst into tears or go insane. "You want me to share these personal, private things just so Cerberus can use her for Goddess-knows-what? Even if I wanted to, the only way I could share those memories would be to pass them into your mind. Human brains aren't built to withstand that kind of stress." She turned. Miranda let her hand fall away. They were looking at each other now. She could see herself reflected in Liara's eyes. "I'd kill you, Miranda. I have too many deaths on my conscience already. I won't add yours."

Her throat tightened again. Liara cared whether she lived or died. How very... touching. Not that it meant anything, of course. She'd read the reports on Liara before the operation on Omega. All of them had mentioned her extraordinary compassion. She had expressed pity for Saren and counseled mercy at every opportunity during the hunt for the Conduit. Concern for Miranda was practically guaranteed. And entirely unnecessary. "It may not kill me. I've been augmented with a greybox. The added processing power and storage space should allow me to receive the memories safely." Theoretically.

She could practically see the wheels turn in Liara's mind. "Maybe... no, it's still too dangerous."

"More dangerous than running around Omega, getting shot at by Blue Suns, and sneaking into a Shadow Broker base?" She allowed herself a small smile. "I'd say you gave up the right to start talking about danger some time ago. Especially when you're playing at being an information broker in Nos Astra. Illium thrives on intrigue. It's a thousand times more deadly than Omega."

Liara's eyes flashed and her lips thinned. Her nostrils flared slightly. Miranda had seen that look before. It had normally been followed by Liara biotically crushing someone. "I'm not playing at being an information broker. It's the best chance I have of killing the Shadow Broker and finding Feron."

Miranda took an involuntary step back. Liara was planning on doing _what_? No. No. No one in their right mind would attempt to eliminate the Shadow Broker. He was the most powerful man in the galaxy. Cerberus wielded considerable influence, but even the Illusive Man had only spoken of thwarting the occasional scheme when the Broker's plans would prove particularly troubling. The rest of the time, he had been a necessary evil that they had used while trying to give up as few of their own secrets as possible. And then he tried to hand Shepard's body to the Collectors. Miranda would have dearly loved to see his head on a pike, but Cerberus didn't possess the resources to take on the Shadow Broker directly, even before the Lazarus Project. What chance did one person have? There were rumors of assassins and mercenaries who had tried to kill the Broker for one reason or another. No one had ever seen them again. And now Liara was joining their number. "And you called me insane. What is this? Some twisted form of asari nobility? Feron is dead because of you, so you're honor bound to throw your life away avenging him?"

Liara turned away. She clutched her arms, as if to ward off the cold. "I had a choice, Miranda. I could either save Feron or I could save Shepard. I chose the dead body. I've condemned Feron to either a slow death or something worse. And all because I couldn't let one human go." Her voice cracked. "The least I can do is make sure the Shadow Broker never makes another bargain with the Collectors. The Shadow Broker claims to be neutral, but all he's done is spread more death and misery throughout the galaxy. I can stop him. Shepard will never forgive me for handing her body over to you, but perhaps I can forgive myself. Besides, if I don't stop him, who will?"

"Look at me." Miranda seized Liara by the shoulders and spun her so that they were once again facing each other. Liara's eyes glittered, either with anger or unshed tears. It didn't matter which. She had to make Liara understand. The girl was too brilliant and driven to throw her life away. "I've been with Cerberus for over half my life. I've tortured people for information. I've had to kill people who didn't particularly deserve it because that was the most efficient way of accomplishing the task at hand. That's the world you're walking into. You'll be killed."

"And there's a very good chance you'll be killed if I give you Shepard's memories."

"I know." She shrugged. Sometimes sacrifices had to be made for the greater good. "I'm willing to risk it."

Liara's lips quirked upward slightly, and for a moment she looked precisely as Miranda had remembered her when they first met on Omega. Her chest jolted. "It seems we both have a death wish." Her eyes darkened, and the spell was broken. "Though I would prefer we both survived."

"So would I." And perhaps there was a way for Liara, at least, to survive. Miranda felt herself trembling slightly. Yes, there was a way. "Let's make a deal, T'Soni. If you give me Shepard's memories, then I'll teach you everything I know about acquiring information. I know a great deal: the proper way to bribe an official without giving offense, when to use charm and when to use force, how to find someone who can hack into the databases of a prominent salarian family and steal a copy of their genetic data..." She let the last few words hang in the air. Liara remained silent. "You say you want to survive this? Then let me help you."

Liara bit her lip, thinking. "No," she said at last.

"No?" Her voice felt hollow. She felt hollow. It was one thing to be thwarted when she wanted something. It was quite another to fail in a vital mission. She'd thought Liara was better than this, that she would do what she had to to ensure that Feron's sacrifice meant something. She wasn't supposed to be stupid and selfish. She was supposed to value her life.

"No. I don't want you to tell me how to find someone to get the data for me. I want you to teach me how to get the data myself."

"Oh." Her voice wavered, and Miranda silently cursed herself. She should not be sounding like an overeager schoolgirl. And yet._.. Liara will help. Liara will help. I wasn't wrong._"I can do that."

Liara held up a hand. "One memory for one lesson. After that, we'll see how it goes. If I think the strain is proving too much for you, then I'll stop the transfer then and there. Understood?"

"Perfectly." It would not be too much for her. The mission was too important. She would teach Liara. Liara would either acquire the tools to survive on her insane quest and learn how to succeed as an information broker or she would give up after learning she had to get her hands dirty. Either way, she wouldn't die. Not soon. "We can start this evening. I have an apartment here in Nos Astra. More of a safehouse really." She tapped another button on her omni-tool. "My address. Is 8:30 acceptable?"

"Fine." Liara sounded a little dazed, as if she couldn't quite believe she had agreed to this. "You do realize that, even if this does work, and I don't accidentally kill you, that it will take time. Perhaps as much as a month."

A month. A month with Liara. "I think you'll find I can be a very patient woman."

Liara smiled and nodded slightly. Miranda's omni-tool gave a warning beep. One minute more of privacy. They returned to their seats. "First lesson and this one's free: it's going to look very suspicious if I leave immediately after the surveillance system comes back online." Miranda arranged her features into the bright, uncomplicated cheer of someone reconnecting with an old friend. "It's been too long. We should go out for drinks sometime. This is your city. Where's a good place to go?"

Liara started, but only for a moment. "Eternity. I think you'll like it. It's not as...exotic as some of the other establishments in Nos Astra."

Eternity. Liara had good taste. It was quiet, the drinks were excellent, and the clientele was less obviously nouveau riche than those who frequented the nightspot of the moment. Miranda had met with Lantaeia there several times and used it as a dead drop location. Perhaps she and Liara could have drinks there eventually. "I can't wait."


	2. Chapter 2

They spent the next few minutes making idle conversation. By the time Miranda left Halledan, the sky was choked with skycars as commuters made their way home. Miranda's rental car was a boxy, unstylish thing built for fuel economy and reliability instead of speed and maneuverability. Better than waiting for a taxi in this traffic, but not by much. There would have been a time when she would've been able to simply fly above the worst of the congestion and practically have the sky to herself. She thought longingly of the 2180 Tennokot she'd been forced to sell to an acquaintance. No need for a sports car on a space station. She wondered if she'd be able to buy it back when Lazarus was concluded, then pushed the thought away. There would be time later to mourn her petty luxuries.

Her apartment was two rooms in a neighborhood remarkable only for its complete ordinariness. A faint mustiness clung to the air. This place had never been intended as a home or a permanent base of operations. Her missions in Nos Astra were usually short-term: steal a prototype VI targeting system, plant a rumor that the chief of police was taking more than the acceptable amount of bribe money so that someone more amenable to Cerberus interests would take her place, assassinate a slaver preying on human colonies who thought her money and political connections made her untouchable. There had never been a need to personalize this apartment or similar ones on Omega or the Citadel. It was clean and secure. That was what mattered.

She took a seat at the desk in the far corner of her bedroom. There was much to do in the hours before Liara arrived. The most important of which was to make sure that her greybox was operating at peak efficiency. If there were any potential problems, she needed to know now so she could develop a workaround. "Lights: dim," she said. "Noise cancellation: 100%." The apartment lights obediently dimmed, transforming the walls from off-white to gray. The already faint sounds of Nos Astra's bustle fell silent. Memory retrieval could be done in any environment, of course; but like its organic counterpart, the greybox worked best when its user was free from distraction and unnecessary stimuli. Miranda closed her eyes and counted backwards from ten very slowly. The outside world fell away and she was lost to the memories.

Miranda had been among the first non-Alzheimer's patients to be installed with a mnemonic neural stimulator. Her father had wanted the best memory money could buy. The salarians' eidetic memories made them the galaxy's premier scientists and spies. Simple genetic engineering would never allow humanity to compete, no more than those children who had developed biotic talent could compete with the asari. Surgery would have to pick up where nature left off. David Ellison had taken the daughter he had intended as an exemplar of humanity and pushed her beyond even that. She would never forget anything that happened from the date of the last surgery to the present. Her memories would never be stolen by dementia. And she was the only member of the Lazarus Cell who stood a chance of retrieving Shepard's memories.

There were side effects. Miranda did not think like an ordinary human. An ordinary person's mind was jumbled. He would remember what he had for breakfast that morning—a bagel and coffee. The coffee would remind him of his first wife, who always took it with cream. This would remind him that his current wife would be late because she was picking the kids up from baseball practice, which would remind him that he had tickets to Saturday's Bears game. Without conscious thought, he might suddenly find himself thinking of how his favorite player from a completely different team was doing. All from breakfast. Marketers had spent a fortune studying the haphazard methods of the human mind.

Miranda's wasn't like that. When Miranda thought of breakfast, the greybox supplied a litany of meals organized by date, location, or main course. If she focused on coffee, it would call up everything from drinking synthetic swill on Omega to an extranet report on the death of the CEO of Stellar Coffee that she'd read two years ago. But she had to choose to think of these things. She wasn't a drell. Memories could no longer flicker unbidden through her mind. The greybox stored information. It did not prod. Miranda's mind was a neat, orderly place. This was by necessity. She was still human. Her mind still made connections between seemingly unrelated things. The difference was that if her thoughts were left a jumbled mess—if any of those connections could be activated at any moment—then her brain would suddenly be forced to deal with twenty years worth of data. She would remember one thing and be forced to remember twenty others only tangentially related. Her synapses would burn out from the strain of vomiting up information.

_Liara T'Soni_, she thought. The greybox served up its accumulated data at what another part of her mind recognized was an acceptable rate. Her mind's eye saw them as row upon row of still images, like previews of videos waiting to be played back in full. In less time than it took her to blink, she had the one she wanted.

_Miranda stood at the bow of the ship and stared at the viewport. Around her, the crew had fallen silent. Tension filled the air. Combat was imminent. Tazzik's ship sped toward the Omega-2 relay. Miranda's lips curved into a smile. He was fast, but they were faster. A display showed the ever-shrinking distance between them. 20,000 kilometers. 15,000, 10,000... A few more seconds and their disruptor torpedoes would be in range. It wouldn't take more than two well-placed shots to disable Tazzik's ship. She'd have Shepard's body and a highly placed Shadow Broker operative that she could interrogate at her leisure. She clenched the railing. "Fire on my mark."_

_"Wait." Even in holographic form, the Illusive Man retained an air of unshakable authority. "As much as we want Shepard's body, it's more important that we find out why the Collectors want it. If we stop the deal now, we'll never find out."_

_Irritation coursed through her. She'd caught the scent of blood, and it was painful to be denied her prey now. "Understood sir, but I still wish you'd let us—"_

_A new ship zipped into view. It was a small, lithe thing, less a spaceship and more an skycar given FTL capability. Miranda's eyes widened in recognition. "Feron and Liara. Let me follow them if you won't let me follow Tazzik." Someone needed to make sure that Liara survived this and that Feron wasn't just biding his time until he could stab them in the back._

_"Patience, Miranda. We know where they're going. Let this play out." He smiled, his way of reminding her that he knew more and saw more than she did. "Besides, I have other assets that you aren't aware of."_

The memory ended, and Miranda returned to the present with a gasp. She was once again aware of her hands resting lightly on the table and the feel of the chair beneath her. After a few seconds, her heartbeat resumed its normal rhythm. The greybox had performed perfectly.

The memory itself was more troubling. She had dutifully stepped back and allowed Liara and Feron to pursue Tazzik to Alignon without her. Suppose she hadn't. Suppose she had taken the shot. She pictured a disruptor torpedo ripping Tazzik's engine to shreds. He would never have gotten near the Collectors. Feron wouldn't have been captured. Liara wouldn't have been engaged in some suicidal quest for atonement. It had all been for nothing. Cerberus still had no better idea why the Collectors wanted Shepard's body than they had when she'd first received intel of their deal with the Shadow Broker. She wasn't to blame for all that followed. Feron had known the risks. She hadn't told Liara to wage a one-woman crusade against the most powerful being in the galaxy. _And yet... _Miranda was, perhaps, responsible. If she had disobeyed the Illusive Man's orders, Liara would be safe and happy somewhere far from Illium. If she'd followed them to Alignon, Liara would never have been forced to choose between Feron and Shepard. If...

She shook her head. That way lay madness. All she could do now was make the best of what had actually happened. Get Liara's memories and do her best to teach her what she needed to know to survive as an information broker.

Next was what she had come to think of as her Illium Ritual. She powered on her computer and waited impatiently as it logged onto the extranet. Like her omni-tool, the computer was slower and less powerful than what she was used to, meant only for temporary use. She made a mental note to buy new equipment. The apartment's spartan furnishings were one thing. Who cared what color the wallpaper was when you only saw it for an hour a day? The computer was different. It was useful. _Only useful things are worth time and money. _It was one of the few valuable lessons her father had intentionally taught her.

The computer logged on to the extranet. Miranda ran a local news search for Oriana. One result. She'd been one of the three human members of the Nos Astra Youth Symphony Orchestra that had played Rimsky-Korsakov's _Scheherazade_ for a visiting turian diplomat a month ago. Miranda scanned the article and felt a lump form in her throat. Oriana had performed the violin solo. The diplomat had been reported as saying he was "enthralled by these extremely gifted young musicians."

Her sister was a skilled violinist. Clearly, she shared Miranda's passion for classical music. She wondered if their tastes were similar. Did she love Nielsen as Miranda did? There was no way of knowing except to arrange a meeting and ask her. The temptation to introduce herself to Oriana was one that she continually had to resist. She wanted Oriana to have a normal life. Having a sister who worked for what the Alliance classed as a terrorist organization was anything but normal. If she had no contact with Oriana, then that minimized the chance that one of Miranda's enemies would use her as leverage. It was Miranda's job to prevent Oriana from ever knowing how harsh the galaxy could be, not bring danger to her doorstep. These news articles were the only way she could ever know her. She ought to be grateful that she could even have that much.

She ran a search for Niket as well. No results. That wasn't a surprise. Niket had always had her genius for passing unnoticed to everyone except her. She'd teased him and told him that he should be a spy when he grew up. He'd blushed and shook his head. The Petersens had been groundskeepers for the Ellisons for over forty years, and his father would be crushed if he didn't carry on the family tradition. Miranda had been charmed. His lack of ambition meant he never wanted anything from her, either. She and Gail would run off to university someday and change the world. She'd had Gail for the excitement and thrill of staying up at all hours making plans to leave New South Wales forever. Niket was solid and dependable, someone she rarely had to think of but could always rely on. Miranda's lips thinned. He had proved to be the reliable one after all. He'd never take her father's money.

Now to begin her work in earnest. Liara's most urgent problem was finding the Palon family genetic data within three days. That could prove problematic. Much of a clan's power rested in its ability to make useful dynastic and political alliances via reproduction. Genetic defects would weaken the next generation. A salarian with particularly good genes might be able to make an advantageous match far in excess of his actual wealth or power because his genes would strengthen the other family. Genetic data was a powerful bargaining chip and therefore jealously guarded. There were only a few places outside a family's personal archive where the data might be found. It wasn't unusual for families to share the data with pharmaceutical and bioengineering firms and contract them to remove undesirable traits from the bloodline. The companies took data security seriously, but it was still her best shot. First, she had to find out which firm the Palon family was using. She typed "Palon" into the search engine. The extranet could at least provide background information.

Five minutes later, Miranda had what she was looking for. An article in_ Lucre_ dated four months ago reported that the head of the Palon family had signed a multiyear, multimillion credit deal with the Dantius Corporation. The accompanying picture showed a family representative shaking hands with the freshly installed CEO, Nassana Dantius. _Wonderful_. Dantius had been a diplomat on the Citadel for years. Miranda had never worked with her directly, but her contacts had. In addition to the usual political vice of being willing to sell her own grandmother if it would help her gain power, the woman had been a paranoid wreck. Her secretary had gone on a "vacation" from which she had never returned. Officially, the missing-persons case was still open. Unofficially, it was rumored that Dantius had had her killed when she had become a little too free with her gossip. Of course, it was also rumored that more than one of her siblings was involved in organized crime, so perhaps her paranoia was justified.

Liara arrived at 8:29. She'd changed out of her dress into a blue and white jacket with matching trousers. The outfit complemented her eyes nicely. Some of the color had returned to her face. Her pupils had returned to their normal size. Liara's gaze swept around the room before landing on Miranda. Her hands twisted nervously. "Reminds me of my old dorm room. I was hardly there except to sleep." She spoke very quickly. Clearly, one of Miranda's lessons would have to be 'How to Make Small Talk Without Sounding As If You're Going To Have A Panic Attack.' "The other girls on my floor were always throwing parties. Made it impossible to study, so I..."

"Calm down, Liara." Miranda rose from her chair._ It's only me. You don't have to be nervous,_ she wanted to say, but didn't. "I have something for you," she said and briefly summarized her findings. "If I were Dantius, I'd keep the data on a closed system away from the main network."

"So we can't hack into it?"

"Not from here." She pursed her lips, thinking. "If I were doing this on my own, I'd release a virus into the main network, forge some credentials, and waltz through the front door as the information security expert that they called to troubleshoot the problem."

Liara stepped closer. "That's not an option for me. Even if I could successfully pass myself off as a computer wizard, I can't step outside of my office without being recognized as either Benezia's daughter or as part of the team that defeated Saren. Anything I do will have to be under my own identity."

"Right. You're a known quantity, which can be an advantage in some cases but seriously limits our options here."

"I suppose we'd have to break in and steal the information." To her credit, Liara made the suggestion in exactly the same tone as she would have suggested going out for dinner. Miranda had almost expected her to be visibly disgusted by the idea. "Dantius Towers is not the place I'd choose to commit my first felony." She smiled slightly at her own joke.

"Nor would I." She'd planned and executed break-ins in less than three days before, but those had been crude smash-and-grab affairs and she hadn't been working with a neophyte partner who intended to continue her high-profile life in the same city. "I'll think of something." She sat down again.

Liara bowed her head and steepled her fingers. "Nassana nearly got Shepard killed the first time they met. She told us that her sister had been captured and was being held for ransom by slavers. When we got to the coordinates we found a small army of pirates and slavers. Nasanna's sister was the leader. We found out later that she was blackmailing Nasanna." She looked up. "I'd like to repay her for that."

_What?_ "Nasanna asked Shepard to kill her sister?"

"Technically, she asked her to kill the leader of the slavers."

"Irrelevant." Miranda waved the last part of the story away. "A prominent diplomat arranged for the first human Spectre to kill her sister. We need information from that diplomat. Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"Because it doesn't matter," Liara snapped. Miranda shot her an incredulous look, so she began again. "She spoke with Shepard in private. I only found out about the conversation when Shepard told me about it. I don't have any proof that Nassana wanted her sister dead, nothing that would hold up anyway."

Miranda wanted to laugh. "You're thinking too much like an academic. We don't _need_ proof. The worst thing that can happen to a CEO on Illium isn't to be arrested for murder. It's pathetically easy to conjure up some 'procedural irregularity' and get the charges dropped if you're wealthy or well-connected enough. No, the worst thing that can happen is for the company stock to nosedive." Miranda smiled in triumph. "And all that takes is a few well-placed rumors. You could ruin her life in less than a week. If you wanted to blackmail her, all you'd need to do is threaten to leak the information to the tabloids." She frowned. "But blackmailing her directly would be suicide because—"

Miranda watched as Liara followed her train of thought, could see the exact moment she understood. "—because the last person who blackmailed Nassana ended up dead. But Nassana hasn't been CEO for long. She's not very popular, either, from what I hear. She's bound to have enemies within the company. Highly placed ones with access to the data." Her eyes were alive with manic energy as she paced the length of the room. This must be how she had looked when she had developed her theory on Prothean extinction. "We trade the data for information that they can use to depose Nassana at their leisure or hold in reserve in case they need a bargaining chip. They would be the ones in danger."

For a moment, Miranda could only stare at her. Then she smiled. "You're a natural at this, aren't you?"

Liara's face darkened. The energy that had seized her only a moment ago vanished. She seemed smaller, weaker, more fragile. "I hope not," she whispered. "But I'm a quick learner."

"Yes, you are," Miranda said. She wanted to add something encouraging, something that would let Liara know that she could and would succeed, but she couldn't think of anything that wasn't a lie, meaningless, or both. "I'll do some digging and see if I can find a likely prospect."

"Thank you. I'll want to know how you made the decision, if I don't kill you in the next few minutes." She sat down gingerly on the edge of the bed. "You don't have to do this. There has to be a safer way of making sure Shepard's personality is intact."

"Full of confidence, aren't we?" Miranda said with a lightness she didn't really feel. Now that the moment was upon her, her hands were cold and her mouth dry. She had never been afraid of her own death. She'd put her life on the line in the service of humanity for over fifteen years, and there were fates worse than death. This was different. She'd always been introverted, and life with her father and the constant, unspoken threat of the asylum had taught her to keep her thoughts and emotions well-hidden. She'd known intellectually that she'd have to join minds with Liara for this to work. Knowing wasn't the same as having Liara in her apartment, preparing to actually do it. She wasn't sure if it was better or worse that it was Liara she would be joining minds with. She knew Liara. She was attracted to Liara.

_Worse. Definitely worse_._ I hope you're worth it, Shepard._ _Too late to turn back now, though_. This was merely the latest, most personal sacrifice she would have to make to defeat the Reapers. She willed her heartbeat to slow to at least approximate normalcy. "Tell me what I have to do."

Liara patted the edge of the bed. "Come here. Sit by me." Miranda obeyed, angling herself so that she could look Liara in the eyes. Her right leg brushed against Liara's left. Liara took her hands in hers. Her touch was light, not at all the death grip Miranda had been expecting. Miranda did not pull away. Liara was reassuringly solid and warm, and Miranda needed the reminder of the physical universe just now.

"I spent a lot of time thinking about what to share with you." Liara's words seemed to tumble from her mouth. "In case we only got one shot at this. I wanted something that could sum up Shepard for you. Something you wouldn't see in the newsvids. But nothing too personal. I don't want to bore you or embarrass you. Not that Cerberus isn't interested in the personal details, I'm sure, but..."

"Just get on with it!"

Liara flushed a faint purple and closed her eyes. "Sorry." Three seconds passed. Miranda could feel her heart racing again, but this time she didn't even try to calm herself. Liara's eyes snapped open. They were black, but seemed almost to glow. It was like looking into an abyss, with the hint of something primal and unknowable awaiting her at the bottom. Miranda pulled back instinctively, but it was too late. "Embrace eternity!"

Some inexorable force drew her forward, and then she was no longer in the apartment. She could see nothing, not even the darkness. The warmth of Liara's hand on hers was the only sign that she still had a body at all. Unfamiliar emotions—grief, guilt, fear—brushed by her and were gone. Liara's emotions. She was aware of Liara's grip tightening. And then...

_The image was blurry, as if she were looking at a reflection in water, but she recognized the scene: the crew deck of the _Normandy_. She could feel something hard pressing into her back. A locker. Dim flickers of frustration and anger passed over her, ghosts of Shepard's own feelings._

_A shadow passed over her. She was not alone. Liara stood over her. The part of Miranda's mind that was still her own noted that Liara seemed much younger than she had when they'd met on Omega. Her eyes were brighter, her posture more relaxed. She frowned. "Commander...Shepard, I cannot believe they did this to you. I'm so sorry."_

_Her lips formed a smile that was only half-faked. Liara was here, and that was something. Even if the Council was made up of morons who were actively trying to doom the galaxy. "It's not your fault."_

_"But it's not right! You did everything they asked and more. The Council owes you everything, and they repay you by grounding the _Normandy."

_"And gave Saren a free pass to find the Conduit. Don't forget that part."_

_Liara's expression turned thoughtful. "Perhaps we could appeal. Get them to reverse their decision. I've met Tevos a few times when she came to..." Her voice quavered, but only a little. "... to visit my mother. She always seemed reasonable."_

_She buried her face in her hands. "I've tried everything I know to do."_

_"And so now you'll just give up? You survived Akuze when everyone around you was dying, but you'll let Saren win because of a few politicians?"_

_She looked up, surprised. Liara was seldom angry, and never with her. It didn't really suit her. She'd gotten used to thinking of Liara as always even-tempered, counseling mercy even for those who didn't deserve it. Liara would probably find it in her heart to forgive those Cerberus bastards for everything they'd done. But her eyes were flashing now. She had let Liara down. The thought made her ashamed and a little sad. She couldn't let Liara down. "What do you want me to do?"_

_"Be the hero that I know you are." Liara's face softened, and she extended her hand. "I'm with you every step of the way."_

_Hero. Right. She needed to be a hero. The galaxy was counting on her. Liara was counting on her. Heroes didn't sit around moping while the bad guys tried to conquer the galaxy. She gripped Liara's hand and hauled herself to her feet. _

The image flickered. Back in the physical world, Miranda was aware of Liara's nails scraping her palm. Miranda could feel the echo of her embarrassment. She was trying to pull away, push Miranda back toward Ilium and away from whatever private moment came next.

Liara wasn't quite fast enough, or strong enough or whatever it was she needed to be_. _The image resolved itself._ She was standing now. She put her arms around Liara. "Every step of the way, huh?" she whispered against Liara's mouth and kissed her. Liara made a strangled sound in the back of her throat, but opened her mouth anyway. Heat spiraled through her. Like everything else in the memory, it was faded, distorted. It was still enough to make her shiver and her skin felt tight. "More," she whispered._

There was a sharp pain behind her eyes, and Miranda found herself thrown back into the physical world. She could feel the mattress beneath her, hard and unforgiving, and smell the stale air. Her mouth felt dry and her cheeks hot. Everything felt more real, more intense. The sensory overload was too much. She wobbled dangerously. Liara released one hand and put an arm around Miranda to steady her.

Liara's eyes were wide, and she looked as flushed as Miranda felt. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." The words came out as something closer to a croak than human speech. She was alive, at any rate. She'd process the rest of it later. Another stabbing pain lanced through her head. She sucked in a breath. _Now I know what an L2 feels like. _"Give me a minute."

They sat like that for a long time. The only sound was Miranda's hoarse pants. Liara seemed content to brace her and wait for her to recover at her own pace and not fuss over her. Miranda was grateful. Her father had provided her with an army of servants, tutors, and doctors whose job it had been to fuss over her—and make sure she was never truly alone. _Deep breaths. In and out. Don't think about the pain._ _Think about something else. Liara. The memory you just saw. Liara kissing Shepard._ She grimaced. _Or not._

Gradually, the pain subsided into a dull throbbing. She was able to notice other things. Liara was nibbling her bottom lip and sneaking furtive glances at Miranda every few seconds. "What?"

"I—you were never supposed to see...that last bit. I was supposed to stop it, but I lost control. I made you feel that." She looked down and removed her hand from Miranda's. "And worse."

Worse? And then it hit her. A cold, hollow feeling welled inside her. Shepard had begged for more, but Shepard had been unable to speak. And yet, Miranda remembered a whisper. She had spoken aloud. She had let herself be controlled by her own lust. That memory of a kiss was as close as she would ever come to ever doing the same to Liara. She'd allowed herself to be carried away as if she were still a lovesick teenager. She hadn't even tried to fight it. She'd _wanted _it.

That was the most subtle danger she faced, that she would lose control and allow her feelings for Liara to cloud her judgment and interfere with the task at hand. Stopping the transfers wasn't an option, now that she knew that they wouldn't kill her outright. She'd never let her emotions rule her before. She wouldn't start now. "Just try not to bring up any 'intimate moments' in the future." Her voice was cool and professional, or as close a facsimile as she could manage under the circumstances. "I'll see what I can find on Dantius. Next time, I want to see something from Virmire. Can you do that?"

Liara nodded dumbly.

"We'll get through this."_ I'll see to that, no matter what I have to do._


	3. Chapter 3

It would've been a nice day under ordinary circumstances. Autumns in Nos Astra were generally mild, especially this early in the morning. Miranda sat at a table in one of the many sidewalk cafés that dotted the trading district. She still wasn't used to the fresh air after months of running around Omega and then being cooped up on Lazarus Station. It was nice to feel the wind in your hair. She nibbled on the roll she'd bought. The food was better, too. None of the MREs or cafeteria food that she'd been subsisting on. It was almost perfect.

Almost. Across the street, Liara sat at an almost identical table in an almost identical café. She was too far away for Miranda to see her expression clearly, but she kept crossing and uncrossing her legs. The listening device Miranda had placed underneath the table picked up the sound of rapid, shallow breathing. Miranda smiled grimly. Liara had brought this on herself. Dr. Coburn and his entourage had been due five minutes ago, which meant they wouldn't show up for another ten. Liara, damn her, had insisted on arriving early. She'd learn better in time. If she didn't have a panic attack first.

She removed the datapad Miranda had given her and laid it on the table. The datapad contained a copy of a Serrice Council Trading License issued to one Commander Ruth Shepard. It had also been modified with a microphone to pick up audio from the surrounding area and allow Liara to communicate with her in case of emergency. Any bodyguard worthy of the title would find the bug on the underside of the table, but they would never suspect the datapad of being anything other than ordinary.

Liara gaze darted around the area, as if she were searching for either Coburn, snipers, or both. Miranda had chosen this meeting place partly because would-be assassins wouldn't have a good line of sight to Liara. It was always possible that this meeting was an elaborate ruse and Dantius was using Coburn to draw a potential problem out. Miranda didn't think so, but it was always best to prepare for the worst. She felt the comforting weight of the Karpov beneath her jacket. Any assassins or kidnappers would have to work for their money.

Liara's gaze landed on her. Miranda gave her a curt nod. _You'll do fine, kid. Or this is all going to blow up in our faces and you'll be running for your life. One or the other._ Liara nodded in return and visibly relaxed. Nothing to do now but wait.

Dr. Coburn arrived ten minutes later, flanked by a pair of asari in dark suits. The one on the left was even younger than Liara, probably no more than seventy or so. She kept tugging at her collar as if she were sweltering in a nonexistent heat. Miranda was familiar with the gesture. The guard was wearing body armor under her clothes and self-conscious about it. She was probably a new recruit Eclipse was testing before giving her any assignments that were actually dangerous. Her partner was a bit older than Liara with deep purple skin. She looked bored. Boredom made you sloppy. Neither of them would be a problem if it came to that.

Coburn himself was far more interesting. He was fifty-six but appeared ten years younger. His hair was a shade lighter than Miranda's, but graying at the temple. He was in decent shape for an executive who hadn't actually practiced medicine for at least five years. He'd been the head of Illium Medical Center's neurology department before leaving to become Dantius Enterprises VP of Research and Development. He'd been arguing with Dantius ever since the latter had taken the reins of the company. His pet project had been developing a gene therapy program to boost the cognitive ability of vorcha. Dantius had killed the project, claiming that it cost too much for a minimal return. Coburn has been in a rage for weeks afterward. Miranda hoped he still was.

Liara rose to greet him. "Dr. Coburn. It's a pleasure to finally meet you." Her voice was soft and honeyed, the perfect gracious host. Almost too perfect. _Don't overdo it._

Coburn didn't seem to mind. He gripped Liara's hand in his. "The pleasure is mine, Dr. T'Soni." He enunciated each word with a crispness that spoke of old money and private schools or at least years of elocution lessons. With his free hand, he motioned for the bodyguards to come forward.

They preformed a cursory sweep of the area. The younger one knelt down to search the undersides of the table and chair. She removed the bug Miranda had planted. "Sir! I found something." She seemed inordinately pleased with herself as she held it up for Coburn's inspection.

Liara stiffened almost imperceptibly but said nothing. Coburn took the bug and flipped it over in his hand. He studied it for a long moment before handing it back to the guard. "Nasanna is getting careless. Or she just wants me to know that she's still watching. No matter." He flicked his wrist in a gesture of dismissal. "Thank you, Tarina. I'll let you or Dalaya know if I need anything. Dr. T'Soni and I have business to discuss."

The two asari nodded wordlessly and took seats a few tables away, just inside Liara's field of vision. Several of the other patrons shot them sideways glances and fidgeted. Miranda thinned her lips. Their true role wasn't observation, but intimidation. Remind Liara that she was being watched and keep her off balance. They had the intended effect. Liara paled slightly. Miranda leaned forward in her chair, watching all four of them. If Liara couldn't learn to deal with such ham-fisted tactics, there was no hope for her as an information broker.

But Liara simply smiled and returned to her seat. "Working for an employer who...takes as much interest in her employees as Nasanna does must be very challenging. I can't imagine how you cope."

Miranda let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding._ Good girl._

"Yes, it can be challenging at times to work with someone who lacks the... business acumen I possess. Nassana has been particularly obstinate since returning from the Citadel." He leaned forward in his chair. "Her extreme aversion to risk has resulted in her shutting down any project that she doesn't perceive as immediately profitable, including the intelligent vorcha project I've spent the last sixteen months working on. She claims their utility as slave labour will be completely negated by advancing mech technology but she misses the point. If my project is successful and manages to incorporate the vorcha into the normal economy, can you imagine the size of the consumer base it would create overnight?"

"And you'd be helping them, I suppose."

"That too." He shrugged. "We could receive a badly needed PR boost, though the baseline organic and vorcha rights groups will try to oppose us. We'll win in the end and make a lot of people a lot of money. I might even make CEO sooner rather than later. If I can get this damn project off the ground," he murmured darkly. "I understand you might be able to help with that."

Liara said nothing. Miranda took a long drink of water. She wanted to cross the distance to Liara and grip her by the shoulders, or at least interrupt the conversation. _I warned you that the world you were dealing with was unpleasant. _Coburn was greedy and obnoxious, but far from the worst Ilium's corporate world had to offer. People worse than him would make up the bulk of Liara's clients and sources. There was no room for her brand of idealism. It was better that she discovered that sooner rather than later.

Liara looked from Coburn to the datapad and back again. "Commander Shepard killed Dahlia Dantius while attempting to eliminate the slaver organization she ran. Upon her next visit to the Citadel, she received this." Her voice sounded a bit strained, but it was likely to pass unnoticed by anyone who didn't know Liara. She slid the datapad over to Coburn. "Very interesting, wouldn't you say? Especially since Nasanna was one of only a twenty people on the Citadel at the time who could have authorized that."

Coburn read. "Very interesting, indeed. Nothing conclusive. There's no proof the two incidents are connected."

Liara leaned forward and placed her fingers of her left hand on Coburn's arm and took the datapad back with her right. "No, but the possibility of connection could make things very uncomfortable for certain people. I'm sure a man of sufficient intelligence could find a number of uses for this information."

"He could. And what would this hypothetical man have to pay to acquire a copy of this information?"

"No credits, Dr. Coburn. I deal in information. I understand the Dantius Corporation does business with the Palon family. If I were to receive a copy of their genetic data within the next two days, I'm certain an arrangement could be made."

"I believe that may just be possible."

Miranda listened as they hammered out the details and felt a twinge of pride and relief. Liara had done far better than she could have dreamed. Coburn rose from his chair, shook her hand, and left with his bodyguards in tow. Everything had gone off absolutely perfectly. Not so much as a close call. Liara might not have wanted to admit it, but she seemed to have a gift for this sort of thing. Maybe she should take Liara to Eternity and order a bottle of champagne to celebrate. She rose from her table and strolled toward Liara, preparing to offer congratulations on a job well done.

She was halfway there when she realized something was wrong. Liara seemed to deflate before her eyes. She looked tired, even ill. The pallor she'd had when Miranda had first seen her in her office had returned. She trembled slightly. She was watching Miranda with a strange expression. Half exhaustion, half disgust. Liara smiled weakly as Miranda approached. The disgust wasn't directed at her, then. "Hello."

"Hello." Miranda slid into the chair Coburn had occupied. "What's wrong? That went infinitely better than I expected. You did well."

"I don't feel like it. Does no one in Nos Astra think of anything but money and power?"

"Some." She thought of Niket. "Not enough." She wanted to say_ I told you so_, tell her to run back to her dig site and her lecture hall. Remind her that Feron wasn't worth dealing with men like Coburn. Miranda was the one who was supposed to wade around in the muck. Liara's left hand pressed on the surface of the table. Miranda fought the urge to cover it with her own. She had promised herself not to let her emotions run away with her again after the incident in her apartment, but Liara looked so thoroughly miserable that the temptation to comfort her was almost overwhelming. In the end, she compromised. "Want me to buy you a drink? I always have champagne after a successful job. You've earned it."

Liara shook her head ruefully. "Maybe after Coburn does what he has to do. I've never been much for alcohol, I'm afraid. I think what I really need is to get back to work. Are you up to it?"

Miranda didn't need to ask what "it" was. The thought of melding with Liara for a second time was both better and worse. She knew what to expect now and then it probably wouldn't kill her unless something went very wrong. On the other hand, she knew what to expect: surging emotions not her own that Shepard didn't bother to control. Her own mind had been subsumed in Shepard's. She remembered the feel of memory—Liara's lips on hers. Shepard had been ready to rip her clothes off then and there. That Miranda had wanted it too scarcely bore thinking about. It didn't really matter what she wanted, did it? She nodded. "Your apartment isn't far from here. I can be there in ten minutes, if that's all right."

"That's fine, but I never told you where I live."

The edges of Miranda's mouth quirked upward. "I thought you'd have figured it out by now. The first rule of the information business is to always do your research."


	4. Chapter 4

_This is it. The last of the original Persistence. There will be no further updates. Miranda's relationship angst is as tiresome to write as to read. So I'm mulling over a version where that angst and the love triangle doesn't exist.  
><em>

* * *

><p>She'd known Liara's apartment would be upscale. The building was in a neighborhood only one step down from the mansions that dominated Ilium's higher altitudes. It had been Benezia's before her death, but she seemed to have come to Nos Astra only rarely. The location was perfect for a daughter who wanted to convey wealth and refinement. And luxury. She took the sitting room in a glance. Plush light blue carpeting. Black and white leather upholstery on the couch and Ottoman. A winding marble staircase leading to the upper floor. She liked the smooth, elegant curves of the furniture. It had probably cost a fortune, but the design was understated and classic. Almost like being back in her father's house. Without the part where she almost died. "Nice place," she said and meant it.<p>

Liara was standing beside her and flushed slightly at the compliment. "Thank you. My mother was responsible for most of this. The only things here that are mine are a few Prothean artifacts. I find it comforting to remember... happier times."

Miranda felt a slight tingling at the base of her skull and stiffened. The greybox was priming memories of a penthouse suite built long ago for the daughter of Earth's richest man. The occupant had hated it for being decorated according to her father's vision of what a well-bred girl should enjoy. Miranda dismissed the promptings with a thought.

Prothean artifacts were on display in a glass case near the stairs. Miranda wrinkled her nose and pointed toward one of them. "What exactly is that?" It looked vaguely like a miniature clay version of the statues found and looted after the rediscovery of Ilos. The mouth—if that black, gaping maw could be called a mouth—stood open in a silent scream. Sightless eyes stared at her. The face was twisted in what appeared to be unimaginable pain.

"That," Liara said slowly, "is Marikar. The closest human equivalent would be Frankenstein's monster or perhaps a very dark take on the Golem of Prague or the story of Tom Thumb. It's your standard 'hubris of mortal man usurping the role of the gods' story. As best we can tell, this particular myth never spread beyond a few islands of what we think was the Prothean homeworld. The—listen to me rambling on. I must be boring you."

"No." And she wasn't. "You love this. Talking about the Protheans. I can hear it in your voice."

"I did. Do." She cleared her throat. When she spoke again, her voice was low and rhythmic. A storyteller's voice. "In those days, there lived a sorcerer-king who ruled over half the known world. He was a very wicked man, but also a very clever and diligent man. He had three sons who were as wicked as their father, but they spent their days whoring and gambling and drinking. The sorcerer knew that none of them were fit to rule. So, he decided to create a worthy heir. The secret of creating life was one of many he knew, though no one had ever tried to create a Prothean before."

She gestured toward the clay figurine. "The sorcerer labored for several weeks, sculpting his creation, and spoke to no one about what he was doing. He spoke incantations that ensured the creature would have all the knowledge of mortal men and be stronger and faster than anyone alive. He named the creature Marikar, which means either 'bright one' or 'conqueror', depending on the translation you're using.

"Marikar was eventually completed. The sorcerer said the proper incantation, and the boy sat up and began to speak as if he had awoken from a long nap. The sorcerer was delighted. Marikar could discourse upon philosophy, handle a sword and shield better than a veteran soldier, and run faster and farther than any Prothean. The only thing he couldn't do was perform magic. Even the simplest spells were beyond him, much to the sorcerer's frustration. Still, he thought it was a fair trade considering the boy's other gifts.

"Then one day, Marikar got into an argument with the sorcerer's eldest son. The sorcerer had never told his three children what he intended, but they still distrusted the newcomer and antagonized him at every opportunity. Normally, Marikar gave no sign that he had heard, but that day he reached across and snapped the older brother's neck as casually as you would snap a twig. The sorcerer had little love for his son but retained enough decency to be shocked and asked Marikar why he'd done it. 'Father, you did not give me a soul. Is that not reason enough?' He left before the sorcerer could answer.

"The next day, Marikar got into an argument with the second son and again he snapped his neck. The sorcerer asked him why he had done it and he gave the same answer as the day before. On the third day, he fought with the youngest son and killed him, again telling the sorcerer that he had no soul.

"By this time, the sorcerer was terrified. There was no one left for Marikar to kill but him. He did not wish to destroy the creation he had worked so hard on, and if Marikar did not ascend the throne after his death, then he would be forced to leave it to some stranger. So he went to a local priest to see what could be done and told him his story.

"'You idiot!' thundered the priest. 'Don't you know that souls are gifts from the gods alone?'

"'Never mind that. How can the boy reign after me if he kills everything that angers him? I don't care what he does to the people, but his line will die with him. He will snap his son's neck, if he doesn't strangle any wife I find for him first. And he will kill me.'

"The priest laughed. 'You deserve what you get, blasphemer. As for the rest, Marikar has no soul. He is not truly alive. Those who are not alive cannot create life. Your heir is useless to y—'" Liara's voice was suddenly panicked. "Are you all right? You look like you're about to be sick."

Sick. That was one way to put it. Shock, followed by a familiar cold fury, spread through Miranda as Liara spoke. Always the same prejudices. David Ellison had made no secret of his plans to create children who were superior to ordinary humans. He'd been denounced for usurping God, for trying to create a new master race, for not sharing the technology with humanity as a whole. That Miranda's sisters (and, the tabloids whispered, Miranda herself) had proved incurably, violently insane had been seen by some as poetic justice, even divine retribution. She hadn't been a person to them, any more than she had been a person to her father. She was a figure in a morality tale. And it turned out the aliens told the same tales, even the supposedly majestic and enlightened Protheans. There was a joke in there somewhere.

"I'm fine." She didn't even try to keep the snarl from her voice. "Why is it that when someone does something impressive on their own initiative in these stories, it's always an intrinsic evil? Marikar kills because he lacks a soul, not because his father figure is a madman. Much easier to hate him that way." She crossed her arms. "So what happened to Marikar? Was he torn to pieces? Tossed into a magical prison?"

"He killed the sorcerer and escaped, actually, but not before the sorcerer cursed him to wander the world forever, eternally alone and in pain. Hence the appearance of the statue."

"Ah." Another wandering, homeless wretch without a family worthy of the name. She felt suddenly tired. Liara had no way of knowing how closely the story paralleled Miranda's own life, but it still made her uneasy. Liara was studying her face carefully, as if she were some freshly discovered ruin that might give up its secrets to someone clever and diligent enough to discover them. Miranda let her look. Part of her enjoyed the attention. Liara might be clever enough to discover some of her secrets at that. She had a talent for being able to piece together seemingly random fragments to make a whole. She'd managed to deduce the true fate of the Protheans despite the Reapers best efforts and had caught on to Miranda's plan for getting the Palon family data with astonishing alacrity. Miranda suspected that was one of the reasons her infatuation with Liara had lasted as long as it had. Attractive people were not especially rare in the circles Miranda moved in, and good mostly for the occasional one night stand when she needed to blow off a little steam. Someone who could keep up with her intellectually was to be savored. Liara—beautiful, brilliant,_ unobtainable_ Liara—was nearly irresistible.

Miranda exhaled. She liked Liara even beyond the stupid desire to get her into bed. She might tell her something of her life before Cerberus someday, but it would be by her own choice and not because she overreacted to a children's story. And she needed to calm down before the meld. She looked at Liara. Her shoulders were tense and she was surreptitiously biting her bottom lip. She needed to be put at ease too. Miranda had a pretty good idea how to do that. She and Liara had something else in common. She'd dismissed it at the time as a minor coincidence, but it was something they could talk about without invoking any personal demons.

She crossed the room and sank onto the couch. It was surprisingly comfortable. Good. She stretched, draped an arm over the back. Her irritation subsided somewhat. If the mind wasn't quite the plaything of the body, it was close enough._ Act calm and you will eventually become calm. Act furious and you will eventually become furious._ An asari mercenary hired to train her in covert operations techniques had told her that when she had first come to Thessia years ago. She pretended to check her fingernails. "I'm afraid I was never much interested in Prothean mythology, or ancient history in general. Pre-Spaceflight Cultures sounded like a much more interesting way to fulfill my humanities requirement. If I'd known Dr. T'Kan was going to be such an ideologue, I might have chosen differently."

She watched as Liara made the connection. Liara gaped at her. "You went to the University of Serrice?"

Miranda suppressed a smile. It was always so terribly fun to surprise people. "Class of '70. My degree is in computer science, not archaeology and you were long gone by then." She shook her head. "Tell me one thing: was the food horrible when you were there?"

"Goddess, yes!" Liara sat down beside her. "We always said we would have called it prison food except—"

"—it was an insult to prison food. It wasn't all bad, though. I remember my senior project was designing a very crude AI to make stock picks. We tracked its decisions for six weeks. It beat the average mutual fund return by eight percent. That wasn't the best part. I felt like I was entering a rare and select group. One of the privileged few allowed to create an artificial intelligence." She leaned back. "Hubris on my part, of course, but it was still a damn good AI for a first effort. And Thessia was quite something to a kid who'd never left Earth. Humanity could learn so much from the asari if only we bothered."

There was something tight in Liara's smile now. She fidgeted. "The more I talk to you, the less it sounds like you should be a Cerberus operative."

"Why? Making humanity stronger somehow equates with hating aliens and being smugly superior? Cerberus were the ones who insisted I go to university off-world. I'd barely left my home before then, let alone interacted with other species. For the first time, I had colleagues. Equals. None of them were human. We aren't better than the other species, but I won't let us become dependent on them, either. The turians provide the backbone of the Council fleet. The salarians provide intelligence. Once they stop being so grateful to us, they'll expect us to start upholding their interests again and call it stability. And every single Council race looks for ways to advance its interests. At the expense of the others, if necessary."

"Has anyone ever told you that you're cynical?" There was no malice in Liara's voice, only bemusement and exasperation.

"Of course I am. It's the only way to stay alive in my line of work. Most people will do anything they can to get ahead. Most politicians are exactly like our friend Coburn, only worse." She arched an eyebrow. "How do you think the Shadow Broker has managed to stay in business? Everybody's looking for the chance to stab each other in the back. Someone has to watch out for humanity."

Liara did not speak for a long time. When she did, her voice was grave and seemed to belong to someone much older. "What does setting a thresher maw on human marines have to do with advancing humanity? Or murdering an Alliance admiral? Shepard won't see you as the protectors of humanity. She'll hate you for Akuze. And she'll hate me for handing her over to you."

"Look at me." She cupped Liara's cheek with her left hand and tilted Liara's head so she could look directly at her. Electricity raced upward from her fingertips. "You were nearly raped, nearly _killed_, I don't know how many times. For Shepard's sake. You put your personal feelings about Cerberus aside. For Shepard's sake. If she hates you for that, she's a fool." _Do you have any idea how rare and precious the loyalty and devotion you've shown is? No one will ever do for me what you have done for her. How could she hate you?_

"That's very kind of you to say, but you don't know how badly what happened on Akuze scarred her."

"Then show me." The thought was sudden and terrifying, but this was what she had to do, what she had to know if she was ever to understand Shepard. "Show me Akuze."

Liara froze. "Show... you Akuze?" Her eyes were wide with something more than shock. "You know what Cerberus did there? And I thought you wanted me to show you something from Virmire?"

"Later. I need to know if Shepard's feeling on Cerberus will be problematic. You were right. We do have plans for her. We want her to stop the Reapers. The Illusive Man plans on working closely with her to do that. The more we know about what happened to her and exactly how much she hates us, the easier it will be for us to adapt."

She took a deep breath. "It's my job to understand Shepard. Since so much of what she became seems to hinge on what happened at Akuze, it seems a logical place to start. How much is she going to hate us?" Miranda kept her tone businesslike and tried to ignore the chill that passed over her. Everyone knew what had happened on Akuze. The story had dominated the news cycle for weeks. Shepard had only just survived the first human encounter with thresher maws. She'd sustained severe acid burns to her face and chest, and the scars had never fully healed. It wasn't something Miranda relished reliving, but she had to try, didn't she? "Can you do that?"

"Not as such. I'm sorry." Liara didn't sound sorry. "I can give you flashes and emotions." Do you remember how blurry what you saw was?" Miranda nodded, and she continued. "It's even worse for things I didn't experience myself. We never discussed it. She didn't show it to me. I couldn't give you anything coherent."

"That seems... weak. I got Shepard's thoughts with no problem. You had no way of knowing those during the encounter itself." Miranda rubbed her temples. She was suddenly aware that it had been a very long day. "You would have had to experience them during the meld."

Liara's eyes narrowed and her lips thinned. Miranda had seen that look before. Liara had worn a similar scowl when she'd first agreed to help Cerberus recover Shepard's body. "It's still harder."

"Nobody said this would be easy."_ Damn it, Liara. You're not usually so petulant. What's going on?_ "Shepard came to galactic attention because she was the first human to survive a thresher maw attack. You seemed convinced that she'll hate you because of that attack. Why won't you show it to me?"

"Because I don't _want_ to!" Liara's voice was a sharp and cold as an ice pick. She dug her fingers into her thigh. "Has it ever occurred to you that I had to experience every memory I give you right along with you? I would be feeling Shepard's pain and fear. She was nearly given a psychiatric discharge after what happened. Maybe you can cope better with that sort of thing. I'm told spies can. But I'm not a spy."

Miranda didn't respond immediately. Truthfully, she hadn't thought about it. She knew that she had asked Liara to share very personal memories, but what was privacy next to the fate of the universe? The idea of Liara being pushed past her mental endurance had never occurred to her. She closed her eyes. Liara would end up with enough mental scarring working in the information business. Adding to them wasn't a price she was willing to pay. She had standards.

_Standards? Or are you just up a besotted fool afraid of hurting her crush?_

Miranda dismissed the thought. Liara would be no good to her if she were turned into a gibbering wreck. Forcing her to risk her health was a brutish approach and the mark of an amateur. Miranda wasn't an amateur. "Then show me what happened between Shepard, Toombs, and Wayne. At the very least, I can get an idea of how much she might resist working for Cerberus."

The cloud seemed to lift from Liara's face. Her eyes brightened and she rewarded Miranda with a half-smile. "That I can do." She grabbed Miranda's hands and intertwined her fingers with her own. Her grip was firmer than they had been the first time. Whether this was to help Miranda maintain her balance or some comfort for Liara herself Miranda neither knew nor cared. She liked the feeling of Liara's hand in hers. She deserved a few scraps of enjoyment from this. Liara's breath became slower and more regular. Miranda felt her skin prickle. It was ridiculous to be nervous. She'd done this before and survived. And there was no danger of lust making her lose control again. Liara closed her eyes.

"Embrace eternity!" It began again.

_The facility was familiar to her, even though she had never been to this one before. The walls had the same bright, clinical whiteness as the laboratories on Binthu. The same elongated hexagon adorned every flat surface. Rage and nausea twisted in her gut. Another Cerberus facility. She'd hoped she'd seen the last of them when she'd discovered Admiral Kahoku's body and told the Shadow Broker to go to hell. Fate had never been particularly kind to her. No reason it should start now. She couldn't figure out what the mercenaries she'd killed wanted here. And Hackett wanted this dealt with, one way or the other. Liara must've noticed her agitation because she placed a hand on her shoulder. They pressed on toward the open door at the end of the hall and the sound of shouting and pleading coming from inside._

_There was only one merc left. He had a death grip on his pistol and pointed his gun at the scientist cowering before him. Wayne, she assumed. Both of them looked as if they had seen better days. Wayne's lab coat was stained with various substances she couldn't identify and his graying hair was askew. The merc might have been in good shape once, but years of hard living or worse had ruined him. His visible skin was ashen and his cheeks were hollow. The eyes were the worst. They were black, dead things. Scarcely human._

_"Don't lie to me!" His voice was high and trembling. She shivered. He sounded like a soldier she had led to his death years ago. "I thought about nothing but paying you back for years! Today's the day I get the chance."_

_Wayne raised his hands. "Please, Mr. Toombs. I don't know what you're talking about. You need professional help."_

_A vein bulged in Toomb's cheek. "It's _Corporal_ Toombs! Or did you forget that it was a bunch of Alliance Marines you killed?"_

_"Toombs?" The words came out in a whisper. It couldn't be the same Toombs. He was dead. They had never found the body, but they'd only found half the squad and identified a third of those. She'd spent hours looking for any other survivor before the rescue team found her. She would have found Toombs. A good officer never left her men behind. Never. This has to be some kind of joke._

_Wayne and Toombs noticed her at the same time. Toombs eyes widened almost imperceptibly. "Shepard? Come to see justice done? You're six years too late." He turned his attention back to Wayne. "But today it all comes out and you pay for what you put me through. I'm only sorry I can't make it last as long as what you did to me."_

_Thoughts buzzed around her head. Rage, grief, and confusion flickered through her. She could make sense of her feelings if only she had the time. She didn't. "How did you survive? I—I looked for you."_

_Toombs gestured at Wayne with his gun. "They found me. I woke up in a holding cell. The scientists were delighted I survived. It meant they had someone to run tests on. They set the thresher on us deliberately. They wanted to see how well we could deal with it. I had the venom injected into my veins. I'm going to make Cerberus pay, starting with the doctor here. Don't try to stop me. You don't know what it was like. I looked you up after I got free. All you got were some scars and a scary reputation."_

_She took an involuntary step back. Cerberus? Cerberus did this to her? She remembered the military chaplain she'd gone to for counseling telling her that it was an act of God and that He moved in mysterious ways. She'd hated that. It was a random, senseless act. She'd wanted desperately to hate someone for it. She didn't want the deaths of her men to be random. Cerberus? They were capable of killing Alliance marines. Hell, they'd re-created Akuze with Kahoku's men._

_Wayne looked at her. His eyes were desperate, pleading. He knew who she was. "You can't believe him. He's crazy."_

_"Crazy?" Cold fury coursed through her. Once, just once, she'd like someone to own up to what they'd done instead of lying their asses off. "Even Hackett knew you worked on something on Akuze." She pointed her own gun at him. "I know whose running this facility. I know what they did."_

_"We saved lives. Cerberus will make humanity great, no matter what we have to do. You want justice? Drag me in front of any court in Citadel space."_

_She could imagine how that would go. Would Cerberus make an attempt to free him or would he simply commit suicide before trial? Either way, there would be no justice. That's what Spectres are for: to bring to justice the people who would normally escape it. "No."_

_"Let me kill him, Shepard."_

_"I can't. These bastards took years of your life. I won't let them take more." She fired. One shot to the forehead. Clean, simple, and more than he deserved. Wayne toppled over like some fallen statue instead of a man. He was dead before he hit the ground._

_Toombs poked at him with a booted toe. "Will the screaming stop now?"_

_"I don't know."_ _Her eyes fell on the elongated hexagon on the back wall. "I promise you that I'll find everyone who had anything to do with this. I'll make them pay."_

The same sharp pain behind her eyes heralded Miranda's return to the physical world. Her heart pounded, and she struggled for breath. Ghosts of Shepard's fury consumed her, and she was only dimly aware of anything else. "Make them pay," she whispered. The desire for vengeance consumed her. She did not yet remember that she was Miranda Lawson or a Cerberus officer. She only wanted to destroy them. "Make them pay."

"Miranda." The voice was soft, but there was a note of steel buried just beneath the surface. Long, almost delicate fingers gripped her and pulled her close. Liara. She was in Liara's apartment on a pleasant autumn day. They were light years away from the nearest Cerberus facility. She owed Cerberus everything. This fury wasn't hers. It was Shepard's. The feelings drained out of her, slowly. The headache remained. She felt hollow. It was as if, having felt Shepard's emotions, she had lost the ability to feel her own.

Liara continued to hold her. Miranda couldn't have resisted even if she'd wanted to. Liara's breath caressed her face. "It's okay," she murmured. Miranda inhaled. Liara smelled strongly of mint. Nice scent, that. She removed one hand from Miranda's shoulders and ran her palm up and down her spine. Gentling her, like a skittish horse or a child waking up from a night mare. "It's okay." Liara's hands were trembling. She felt the same echoes of murderous fury coursing through her.

The thought that she wasn't the only one in the grips of strong emotion didn't make Miranda feel much better. She'd read of the melds Shepard had performed with Liara and Shiala, exchanging the Cipher and vision from the Prothean beacon. There had been mentions of Liara feeling faint and exhausted afterwards, but Shepard had been able to shrug it off. Surely Miranda ought to be at least as strong? The first time might be excusable because of the novelty, but not the second. She was the one who had been bred to have superhuman endurance. That endurance was the reason she'd survived the operations that had made her a biotic and given her the greybox. She felt her cheeks flush with something that had nothing to do with Toombs or Akuze.

She pulled away. "May I have some water?" Her voice was hoarse, and she felt as if her mouth had been stuffed with sandpaper, but at least it wasn't the barely human croak from before. Perhaps there was hope for her yet.

"Of course." Liara stood up and started walking in the direction of what Miranda assumed to be the kitchen. She almost called after her and told her she would get it herself, but thought better of it. There was pride, and then there was arrogance. Liara returned with the offered glass, and Miranda accepted it with a murmured thanks. The water was cool and fresh. It took every ounce of self-control Miranda possessed not to down it in one gulp.

Liara resumed her seat on the couch. "Better?" she asked after several minutes.

"I think so." Miranda sipped carefully. "I've been worse. Mostly just a mild headache."

"You are remarkably strong willed, you know." Miranda looked up at that. Liara was staring at her. It wasn't the calculating, appraising expression she normally wore when she looked at Miranda. Her eyes were hard. "Most humans would be huddled in corner for the next hour."

"Shepard was fine when you did this with her." She couldn't keep the bitterness from her voice.

"I was taking information from Shepard, not giving it. Even when she received the Cipher, she was receiving ancestral memory, not the memories of individual Protheans. She never had to feel another's lust or anger. My people are natural empaths. Yours aren't. You're handling this about as well as could be expected." She smiled, wistful and a little sad. "Shepard was always a person of strong emotions. Especially her anger." Her expression darkened. "That was the only time I ever saw Shepard shoot someone who wasn't armed. You see why I say she'll be furious at having to work for Cerberus."

"I do." She had known intellectually that Shepard blamed Cerberus for what happened on Akuze. That wasn't the same as experiencing blind, unreasoning rage for herself. _Make them pay._ She'd always kept a check on her emotions. Letting fear, anger, or even love interfere with the job was a good way to end up dead. You used your brain, not your gut. But Shepard had acted on impulse because of her hatred. Which meant she would be a problem when she woke up. But there was always a way to solve problems if you didn't mind getting your hands dirty.

Liara looked down. "Now do you see why I say Shepard will hate me? She'll see this as the worst kind of betrayal. Though I admit I'd rather be lonely and have her alive again."

Miranda's smile was bitter and ironic. The exhaustion from the meld seemed to hollow her out. The last thing she needed was to be reminded how completely in love Liara was with Commander bloody Shepard. "There's always a third option: her alive and the two of you having half a dozen little blue children and living happily ever after."

"Don't be ridiculous." Liara stood and walked to the window. Her steps were heavy and halting. It occurred to Miranda that perhaps Liara was as exhausted as she was. "Even if she didn't hate me, there are a thousand things that could go wrong with your project. And that's not even counting—" She blushed. "I get so tired of just waiting. I wish I could have a life again. There are days I think some part of me died after I brought you her body."

Liara bowed her head and hunched her shoulders. Miranda wanted nothing more than to put her arms around Liara, but she did not fully trust herself. She wished it was only lust she felt for Liara. She would have known what to do with that. Seduce her and use her for as long as it was enjoyable. Liara might even welcome the distraction. This respect, affection, or whatever it was that Miranda had for her complicated things. Too much.

Distraction? Perhaps there was a way to help Liara deal with her misery and improve her information gathering skills at the same time. "Who says you can't have a life? You can't spend every waking moment looking for Feron. Go to a party once in a while. Make contacts. You helped stop Saren. Every person worth knowing in this city should be falling all over themselves to get to know you."

Liara turned back to her. "I've had offers. I just got an invitation to a charity auction yesterday. I've been told everyone who's anyone will be there. And of course, there are those who want more. Do you have any idea how many times I've been propositioned since I came here?" She shook her head. "I won't be an ornament. I'd need to trust my partner. There were only ever two people in the galaxy that I trusted. One of them is dead. The other..." she trailed off abruptly.

She and Miranda stared at each other. The roomed seemed cooler now, with an odd tension that had not been there before. A tightness constricted Miranda's throat. Breathing was suddenly very difficult._ She doesn't mean you,_ a voice said._ She'll never mean you._ She had to stop torturing herself like this. She wasn't a teenager anymore. Liara probably didn't know what she was doing.

"You said you think this auction would be good for me?" The question is so absurd on the heels of the odd moment that Miranda could only nod dumbly. "Then I'd like you there with me. I've never been good at mixing with people. Maybe you could help me. I can get Nyxeris to pull some strings and get you an invitation."

Miranda managed a stiff smile. "'Never been good at mixing with people?' That's ninety percent of what this job is. You need to learn how to flatter people, how to impress them. And, if I show up with you to anything, the gossip columnists will have me pegged as your lover before the day's out."

Liara had the good grace to blush. "Or as one of those paid escorts people hire to hang on their arm at these kind of things."

That was a role Miranda was familiar with. It was astonishing what people would let you get away with when they thought you were nothing more than a brainless bit of arm candy. "Someone like you would require the exclusive sort, the kind you have to truly impress to actually sleep with. Expensive clothes, dinner at the best restaurants, that sort of thing."

"And I'm not even quite certain what the nice restaurants are." Liara bit her lip. "Could you be that for me? One of those escorts, or mistresses, or whatever you humans call them?"

"What?" Miranda's mind grinded to a halt like a badly-oiled windup toy. "What?" she repeated as if she were a half-witted fool.

"Not sex!" Her eyes went wide with nervous terror as she rambled on. "I just, I need someone to walk me through this. This is your world, not mine. I need you with me to figure it out. And if that means people think I'm you're lover, let them think it. Especially if it keeps the vipers away for a little while."

Miranda's stomach lurched, and she felt as if the world had shifted sharply and irrevocably in some new direction. The hell of it was that she can see the logic. Her father designed her to fulfill a particular ideal of feminine beauty: elegant, refined, and faintly unapproachable. Someone like her on Liara's arm would breed envy and further the impression that Liara was a force to be reckoned with. It would be easy to arrange for a few purchases of jewelry and gowns and make it look as if Liara had paid for them. She could teach Liara the vital skill of money laundering. And the charade would discourage suitors Liara clearly didn't want.

_But that's not your real reason, is it?_ She could imagine how this will go. Liara dancing attention on her as they descend upon Nos Astra to see and be seen. She might even take Liara to the symphony and introduced her to Nielsen. There would be subtle gestures: an arm around the waist, all within the bounds of good taste but conveying an unmistakable message of possession. Miranda shivered. She wanted this, to pretend that Liara is hers. Fool that she was, she would take the illusion of romance, just as she lapped up the memory of the kiss. "Just until you figure things out."

The smile Liara gave her was almost worth it. So much for not being tortured.


End file.

Mass Effect, Romance