Commander Shepard never used to have trouble sleeping, but ever since he and his team had destroyed the Collector base, losing two friends in the process, he found that he spent most of the night tossing and turning unless he was completely worn out. Most nights, Miranda helped him with that problem, especially since she had moved into his quarters. On nights like tonight, however, he found the empty space beside him disconcerting and wished she wasn't so invested in her work. After an hour of staring at the ceiling, with nothing but his thoughts to occupy him, Shepard finally gave up and rolled out of bed.
As he dressed himself, he glanced at the picture that sat on Miranda's bedside table. It was one of the few sentimental items Miranda had ever allowed herself to keep, though he noticed she was gradually opening up in that regard. He couldn't contain a smile as he thought about the moment that had been captured in that frame.
The crew had thrown a surprise party for Miranda's "birthday" since she had never celebrated it before. In the picture, Shepard and Miranda shared a stolen kiss, smiles on their faces, in the midst of friends.
"You better be careful," he had told her when she placed the picture there. "If you're not, you might actually turn into a real girl."
She had laughed at him, clearly getting the reference to the old Earth fairytale, Pinocchio. It had been a good moment.
As he headed for the door, his smile faded. They hadn't been having as many of those lately.
Shepard leaned against the back of the elevator with his arms crossed over his chest as he waited for the lift to reach its destination. He wore the expression of a man deeply troubled. As Captain of the Normandy, his thoughts should have been upon what he was about to do, but instead his mind was focused on Miranda… and their latest argument.
It had been months since their ordeal with Corporal Toombs and since then, things had been relatively quiet. At first, the thought of a little quiet time seemed like a dream come true for Shepard. However, after a few of the longest weeks spent scanning and probing planets, Shepard and his crew had grown restless. Their stagnant condition seemed to directly affect his relationship with Miranda, as well. It was only natural, he reasoned. They both had spent the better part of their lives in the midst of something bigger than themselves. In Shepard's case, he had lived in battle, fighting for a greater cause. As for Miranda, she had been "engineered for greatness", as she put it. Sitting around on a starship waiting for data to be decrypted and analyzed was not for either of them, and it showed.
Their restlessness had turned to agitation which had grown into frustration which, inevitably, was something that they had begun taking out on one another in small doses. Shepard needed to change things up, for his crew's sake, but also for his own. He loved Miranda more than anything, but if they didn't take some time away from the ship soon, they would tear each other apart, and they both knew it.
Reliving their last dispute in his head, Shepard put his fingers to his temples in an attempt to rub the memory away. He closed his eyes and found himself back in their quarters.
"You're a Spectre. For god's sake, Shepard, act like it!" Miranda paced in front of the aquarium, clearly agitated.
Shepard sat on the bed, his head in his hands. He looked at her in frustration, "That doesn't mean I can fly across the galaxy doing whatever the hell I like!"
She glared at him, "That's exactly what it means, actually."
Shepard was tired of this argument. He was tired of arguing with her, period. He would give her nearly anything she wanted, but he wasn't going to run off on dangerous missions they had no reliable Intel on.
Speaking slowly and enunciating every word, he replied, "That doesn't mean we should. I'm not going to endanger the lives of everyone in this crew just because you're bored, Miranda."
Hurt by his accusation, Shepard watched as all emotion left her face. He knew then that she had thrown up her impenetrable wall and instantly he regretted such a childish remark.
She turned to leave, never once facing him as she spoke, her voice without a trace of emotion, "Right. I have a lot of work to catch up on. If you need me for anything, I'll be in my office tonight." With that, she vanished through the door.
Shepard cursed under his breath.
"Who are we becoming?" he thought desperately.
He stood and walked over to his desk, taking out a vintage crystal drink decanter. Anderson had given it to him as a gift upon their return from the Collector base. It was from the mid-1900s, which meant it was very rare and very valuable. He poured himself a glass of ryncol and immediately tipped it down his throat before refilling his glass. After staring at it for a moment, he gulped it down as well. Just as he was about to fill the glass again, the picture on Miranda's nightstand caught his eye. He froze as he stared at himself and Miranda.
"We were happy then… weren't we?" His thoughts became muddled and the truth hard to discern, "Are we falling apart? Did I fuck this up? Did she let me in… only for me to push her away?"
"Damnit!," he yelled, furious with himself and their situation as he turned and threw his glass against the wall, shattering the antique into hundreds of tiny pieces. He ran his hands over his head as he sat on the bed and fell onto his back. He put his hand on her side of the bed, painfully aware of her absence before getting to his feet to clean up the mess he had made.
As Shepard sensed the elevator reaching its destination, he opened his eyes, snapping back to the present. His face transformed into the stoic Commander's once more. The movement finally stopped and the door hissed open revealing a crowd of people filling the CIC. As they noticed Shepard's arrival, the murmurs of the crew died down, the recognizable voice of Yeomen Chambers yelled the call to attention, and the crew snapped to.
Shepard walked forward, looking at the faces that surrounded him. As he stood on the platform and looked out, he realized Miranda wasn't among them. He had informed her earlier what he'd intended to do, but he didn't anticipate her absence. Catching himself as he felt a frown pull at his mouth, he cleared his throat, responded to the salute, and began;
"At ease. Most of you are probably wondering why I called you here," he began, his eyes going from crew member to crew member. Judging by the slightly confused expression on their faces, he was right, "It's been a long few months since the events through the Omega-4 relay. While I do appreciate the hard work each and every one of you has put in since we came back home… the old saying 'All work and no play' comes to mind right now…"
Hushed excited whispers began circulating through the crowd. Shepard looked up at Joker, who was standing at the stairs leading to the cockpit, a smirk on his face, "As most of you are probably already guessing – I'm ordering you all to take a two-week leave. We lost some good men and woman in our mission – and I'm sure most of you would like to get back to your families to be with them, and celebrate our success."
Shepard's eyes immediately when to Crewman Rolston, whose body was slumped with relief, an excited expression on his face knowing he'd be able to go visit his family in San Francisco. Rolston looked up at Shepard, mouthed thank you, and turned his gaze towards Crewman Patel, who whispered some words of joy into his ear.
"You've earned this time off, ladies and gentlemen – and I want each and every one of you to make the most of it. You have two weeks to enjoy yourself absolutely – those of you who desire to stay are more than welcome," Shepard pushed himself up and snapped to attention – the crew responding in turn. "Enjoy yourselves, crew – I'll see you all when you get back. Dismissed!"
The CIC erupted in cheering and celebrations as Shepard turned and headed back into the elevator. As the doors hummed close, Shepard allowed himself a small smile before pushing the button that would send him to the third floor – where his heart was waiting.
