9: Truce

.

She'd done it again. Victoria Shepard, the unfathomable enigma that she was, had gone and done it again. She'd been looking at her with those understanding eyes, that kindness on her face that was just as utterly perplexing as it had been the first time it appeared. And Miranda hated her for it.

Why can't anything with her just be simple?

Miranda could still feel the warmth on her arm where the other woman had placed her hand, watching her with all the sincerity that a person could possess. She was gentle, and wearing that damned look on her face that made Miranda want to punch her more than ever.

How could she look like she cared when all they'd ever done was fight? How could anyone so purposefully infuriating have so much compassion in their heart that they could genuinely care about the wellbeing of someone that even they proclaimed to hate? It was ludicrous. Even worse, it went against everything Miranda had thought about her.

She'd had two years – two damn years – to profile everything about the legendary Commander she now served under. It was her job, and if there was anything Miranda Lawson was absolutely sure of, it was that she was excellent at it. So it followed, that in two years, someone as particularly talented as herself would have learned everything there was to know about her project, able to recite her entire history off the top of her head.

She knew all of it; where she'd been born, where she'd grown up, how old she was when her mother died, and at the time of her father's murder. Her joining the Reds, then promptly leaving them to join the Alliance, and the completion of her N7 training – every last detail of her history had been accounted for, up to and including the posthumous promotion she'd received for valour in service after meeting a terrible end at the hands of the Collectors.

But they were just facts, and as good as Miranda was with facts, she'd known that the Lazarus Project required more extensive research. She needed to know everything; every like and dislike, bad habit and obsessive hobby. She needed to know the ins and outs of the woman as surely as she knew herself and she'd thought that after two whole years, she'd succeeded in exactly that.

She watched every piece of footage, every interview; noted the confident aura with which the woman carried herself, proud but professional; watched as she answered every serious question with a militant directness and enough political savvy to not actually give much away at all. In more informal, personal interviews, she would seem more laid back, scratching at her scars occasionally, and grinning mischievously when she'd clearly dipped a question.

Miranda calculated both the similarities and the discrepancies between her public persona and her private one, rifling through report after report from her shipmates and superiors. A good leader; pragmatic yet fair, abrasive yet charismatic. And oh so damn charming when the need arose - Miranda personally knew that well enough. She was a woman who inspired loyalty in those around her, and an awed fear and respect in near everyone else.

Miranda had been through every single inch of the woman's life a hundred times over, and knew enough to be confident that once this project – this woman – was finally standing before her, she would know her better than anyone.

Not once, in all that time, did she ever consider that Victoria Shepard would be capable of surprising her.

She had never been so utterly wrong before in her life.

The damn woman was a paradox, completely indecipherable to her. Every time she thought she had a grasp on her, she went and flipped the tables, changed the rules.

This was the same woman who joined a violent criminal gang in order to endure on the streets, becoming a murderous thug no better than the many she had battled against in her military career. This was the same woman that had survived Akuze through pure determination and instinct, found blood-stained and hysterical, laughing through her tears. She had executed unarmed captives, criminals that they were. She left a squad mate to die on Virmire, and applied the same cold calculation when wiping out the last Rachni, and when sacrificing human lives in order to save the thousands aboard the Destiny Ascension.

Through all of these findings, Miranda had acknowledged the cool, pragmatic logic behind them and respected that despite the carefree grin the Commander often sported, she could be absolutely ruthless in achieving her ends.

Nothing, amidst all Miranda's research had led her to believe that Victoria Shepard had so much heart. She was compassionate, no doubt. She had after all, died saving a friend's life. But that was just it. Joker was her friend. Miranda's own relationship with the woman was a great deal more complicated, which begged the question, why would she even bother? Why would she even care?

All those questions and more flicked through the Cerberus agent's mind as the Commander had asked her to reconsider killing her oldest friend, and it was down to all those thoughts and more that she had complied. The same questions hounded her now once again, feeling the warmth of Shepard's gloved hand through the material of her suit, and the depth of meaning in her gaze.

"Go talk to her."

Green eyes bore intensely into her own, and Miranda found herself dissecting every plane of colour in them, every pale slash that cut through vibrant deeper hues, every fleck of gold around the edges.

She could pinpoint the circuit and material that lay beneath them, where the wires connected with the laser point light beneath her iris, where the metal plates in her skull where and where they gave way to flesh and bone. It should have been easy to view her as the project she always had been. She was a corpse made real, Miranda's own Frankenstein's monster. But staring into those eyes, the depths of feeling in them ebbing from her person and swallowing their captive whole, it was impossible to see her as anything but human; complicated, problematic, more intricate than any of the synthetic mechanics that had been devised to save her.

Inhaling a deep breath, Miranda swallowed her confused emotions and turned to watch her sister. The girl was so much like she had been at that age, but so very different. She was smiling for one thing, which Miranda herself had never often felt compelled to do. She had never really had much reason.

With a last glance at Victoria, she nodded, and steeled herself to stop the shaking in her hands as she made her way over to the most important person in her life. A person who didn't even know she existed. A person who-

"You…" A voice cut through Miranda's musings, stopping her in her tracks. "It's you, isn't it?" Oriana stared, an excited smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "I didn't think you'd ever come."

A moment of silence hung between them.

"You know who I am?"

"Of course." The younger girl grinned sheepishly. "I tend to do a little more snooping than I probably should."

It wasn't often that Miranda found herself dumbfounded, but words quickly failed her taking in the girl she had never thought she would actually meet. Oriana seemed either oblivious to her sister's inner turmoil, or at least too kind to comment on it, and simply continued earnestly.

"I'm… really glad I finally get to meet you."

Miranda shook herself. "It's… good to meet you too."

They stood in an awed silence for a moment, only broken when Oriana's parents turned to the pair with a questioning glance.

"Oriana? We're leaving soon."

The girl nodded her head, before turning back to Miranda for a moment, a thoughtful expression on her face.

"Mom, dad…" She beckoned them over. "This is Miranda. My sister."

The couple blinked in shock, sharing much the same deer in the headlights look as Miranda herself at that moment. Taking much longer to cover it, they looked between the siblings in disbelief. The Cerberus Operative thought it might well have been laughable were it not for the sudden awkwardness she herself was feeling at that exact moment.

"Uhm… it's a pleasure."

"Likewise."

Miranda nodded, appraising the two critically. They seemed kind, trying their best to smile politely through their surprise. She already knew everything about them of course, as had been part of her agreement with Cerberus. She wasn't about to allow her sister to leave her side without first assuring that she was going to be safe; that she was going to be happy.

"Could I…"

"Of course honey." Oriana's mother acquiesced immediately, understanding her daughter's request. She placed a kiss to her temple and Miranda for a moment felt the most absurd flicker of jealousy; a longing for the mother she'd never had.

It passed as quickly as it came however, replaced by a sense of happiness that Oriana had indeed received everything she did not. She'd gotten the life Miranda had always hoped for her.

Seeing it first hand, it was more rewarding than she had ever thought possible.

XIXIXIXIXIXIXIXIXIXIXIXIX

She felt lighter; physically, metaphorically, mentally. It felt like a weight that had rested on her shoulders for as long as could remember had been lifted. The beginnings of a smile had begun to tug at her lips in a movement that was almost foreign to her, honest and sincere in its genuine happiness.

Oriana was… incredible. Miranda had never dared to hope that one day she may actually be able to introduce herself as her sister, to talk with her as family. It was a dream she'd never dared hope would be realised.

But it had come true, and as much as she was loathe to admit it, she only had Shepard to thank for it.

The thought made her cringe a little. She could only imagine the smug expression on the Commander's face as Miranda was forced to humbly admit she had been unfair, espousing her gratitude for having come to her aid when she needed her. The thought of that shit-eating grin was enough to provoke a shake of the head, but she caught herself when she realised it felt like a fond gesture more than anything.

Miranda sighed, rolling her eyes at herself. She didn't really care if Shepard waltzed in with the most arrogant, self-satisfied smile to have ever graced the universe. She was grateful regardless, if still slightly confused as to why the woman had resolved to help her in the first place.

There had been no hesitation. Not a moment's pause, just to make her nervous. Despite everything they had been through, despite the complete and utter disdain they clearly had for one another, Shepard had not thought twice about helping her, as if the alternative had never even been an option.

So lost as she was in her thoughts, staring out into space through her window, Miranda almost didn't hear the soft hiss of her door as it opened. In fact the entry of her visitor might have gone altogether unnoticed were it not for the intrusive nature of their person.

"Well look at you, smiling like a real girl," the visitor said. The voice was unmistakable, low and smooth, talking like she'd found Miranda and plucked her right out of Pinocchio.

Miranda, for her part, remained unmoved, biting her lip to contain the laugh that wanted to escape her, the one that said she just knew Shepard would be unable to resist a little gloating. On any other day, she would have bit the inside of her cheek, trying to hold in the anger that the other woman's arrogance always seemed to inspire in her. But it was not any other day, and any anger she might have felt seemed far from her in that moment.

Turning to acknowledge her Commander's presence, she didn't bother to hide her smile.

"I take it your chat went well?" Victoria asked, and Miranda was more than a little surprised to see how genuine a question it seemed. Of course Shepard was arrogant, a teasing air to her words as there always seemed to be, but gloating seemed an inaccurate description for her actions. Instead, they seemed almost considerate.

Arrogantly, annoyingly considerate.

"It did." Miranda finally answered. "She already knew who I was, though her parents were clearly less informed. The look on their faces was certainly something."

The Commander just smiled, leaning against the door like she was waiting for something. For the briefest of moments, Miranda couldn't quite place it, until the smile turned into more of a familiar smirk. A brief laugh shook the Cerberus woman's chest.

"Thank you, Shepard. I mean it."

At once, the red head's smirk turned into a pleased grin that made Miranda shake her head in resignation. She just knew there was going to be gloating.

To her surprise however, Victoria bit her lip, failing miserably to conquer her triumphant beam. "I'm sorry," she said, looking anything but. "I'm trying really hard not to revel in this moment too much. Really." Her mouth twitched, clearly fighting with her amusement.

"Your efforts to be less annoying are duly noted Commander." Miranda found that suddenly she was fighting with her own smile, though no doubt she was having more success supressing it than her counterpart.

"I should hope so, 'cause I doubt it'll be happening again." Her smirk returned for a moment as she readied to leave, before a thoughtful expression crossed her face. "And uh," she began, unsure in a way that was completely uncharacteristic of her. "I'm glad… That you sister's safe… it's… I'm glad."

Shepard frowned, furrowing her brows in what Miranda could only assume was mental chastisement at her poorly articulated sentence. Miranda was oddly heart warmed. She found she disliked the feeling. It was only when the other woman was halfway out the door that she realised she hadn't said anything in reply.

"Shepard," she called out, causing the other woman to pause, turning back to her questioningly. Miranda faltered, unsure of exactly what it was she had even been searching to say.

Silence hung between them, until she finally came out with: "How's Alex?"

The Commander's lips quirked upward gratefully, if only the tiniest fraction. "She's okay. Woke up a little confused but she seemed…" She trailed off, clearly troubled. "She's sleeping, for now."

Miranda wanted to say that 'okay' is hardly a word she would use to describe the young blonde, but bit her tongue. If Shepard had been showing restraint, so could she. Instead, she simply nodded and watched as Victoria forced another smile in way of a goodbye and made her way over to the Med-Bay.

Retreating back into her own room, Miranda took a seat before the window once more, staring out into space thoughtfully. Her interactions with the Commander of late had been quite bearable, and at the very most almost… pleasant. She wondered if perhaps had she not been so – not embarrassed, Miranda was never embarrassed, she assured herself – wary, of any discussion of their first meeting, their working relationship may have been a great deal better off. She also wondered if in fact it was completely Shepard's fault and she did in fact have some kind of split personality disorder that would explain a great deal.

Most of all, she wondered where their sudden truce had come from, and more importantly, how long the peace would last.

AN: Worst updater ever strikes again. This one's a little shorter again 'cause I just needed to get something out there. On the plus side I'm not dead, but I'll totally understand if I don't stay that way for long and any of you want to kill me.

I'm so determined to just post this that I also haven't had chance to properly read through and edit so spelling/gramatical mistakes may be frequent and I apologise. I'll probably edit later. (Terribly unprofessional I know, what kind of crackpot operation is this?).