The blue and green orb appeared in the bedroom's viewscreen, more beautiful and terrible than James Shepard remembered.
"Miranda," he whispered, "Miranda, it's Earth."
Miranda shifted under the sheets, then rolled over to look up at Shepard. Her piercing eyes never failed to cause Shepard's heart to skip a beat. She frowned.
"I never wanted to return here," she admitted.
"Me, neither," answered Shepard, "But I owe it to Finch. He came through to help us defeat the Reapers when the Systems Alliance would barely move a finger." Shepard had been chagrined to learn that Cerberus contacted Finch, his old Tenth Street Reds comrade, after learning both of his connection to Shepard and his past as an anti-alien gang member. However, Finch had turned out to be a valuable insider on Earth and the surrounding area, and despite his reservations, Shepard had found him resuming their childhood friendship. Outside of the Normandy's crew, Finch was one of the few people he could trust, especially after he lead a militia force against one of the invading Reapers. From gang member to humanity's hero. Shepard smiled. Sounds familiar, he thought.
He had promised to visit Finch, if and when he had the time. And with the Reaper invasion stopped and the galaxies at relative peace again, Shepard had no more excuses. And so he was returning to Earth, for the first time in almost 20 years.
His eyes wandered back to Miranda, who was now up and dressing. So much had happened in those twenty years, but of all those things, finding Miranda was his greatest success.
Both their eyes returned, involuntarily, the the planet in the viewport.
"To the past," spoke Miranda, quietly.
"No," Shepard responded, "to the future."
Finch may have left the life of gangs behind, thought Shepard, but he still looked a little greasy. Striding down the ship's landing ramp, Shepard reached out a hand. Smiling toothily, his friend gave him a hearty handshake.
"Welcome back to Earth, Jim," said Finch. "We sure have moved up in the world, eh? Could you imagine a view like this as kids?"
Shepard looked around him. They stood high up on a balcony overlooking New Calcutta. Gleaming towers reflected sunlight across the cityscape like gold, a vision of wealth and comfort he could have barely dreamed of as a child. He wondered if any of the other kids he grew up with had made it out of the slums. He hoped some still did.
Finch whistled beside him. "And who is this fine-looking woman?"
Heading over to Miranda as she descended the ship, Shepard put an arm around her waist. "This is Miranda Lawson, Cerberus Operative and my fiancee."
Finch shook Miranda's hand, eyes lingering a bit too long on her chest. "My, my. You have done well for yourself. You never mentioned a woman on the 'net."
Raising an eyebrow, Miranda looked over to Shepard, quickly drawing her hand back from Finch.
"Well," answered Shepard, "You know I don't like to brag."
Finch laughed. "Sure, Jim. And my mother's an overweight hanar."
A shuttle pulled up at just that moment, causing Shepard to breath a sign of relief at the interruption. Maybe he should have introduced Miranda and Finch via the 'net. Finch would be less likely to get punched that way.
"Here is your chariot, my lady," said Finch. "A feast awaits us in my halls."
If Finch was trying to impress either Shepard or Miranda with his "halls," he failed. His massive dining room was decked out like a cheap bordello, with red velvet everywhere and dusky lighting. Shepard noted that Finch had invited some other old Reds members, most of whom he could barely remember, to the dinner. The mood was relaxed, with some of the diners already well into their cups. But he could not help but notice that Miranda was on edge.
"My love," Shepard whispered, leaning over to her, "what is the matter?"
Miranda frowned. "Something is wrong here, James. I don't trust Finch."
The dim light did make visibility less than Shepard may have wished, but looking around the table, he did not see any signs of danger. In fact, he was pretty sure that someone at the far end of the table was snoring.
"Finch may be something of a cad, but he's a loyal Cerberus man and a defender of humanity. I don't think we're in any danger."
Miranda shrugged. "I will still keep my eyes open."
Smiling, Shepard responded, "Don't we always?"
As the dessert course was being served, Finch stood at the head of the table. He tapped a spoon against his wine glass.
"My old friends," he began, "we are here to greet the return of one of Earth's own, the incomparable Commander James Shepard." Scattered applause burst out from around the table. "Way back in the Reds, we used to talk about how things would be bigger and better. And now we have it all! Well, I guess Jim has one-upped upped me with his beautiful fiancee, Miranda. But with all the fame and money I have, there's certainly no need for me to settle down yet! The Reapers are gone and our lives are ours again." Finch raised his glass. "A toast! To humanity's triumph!"
A bullet seemed to form inside his glass, shattering it into pieces. Shepard and Miranda instinctively ducked, pulling pistols from their boots. Miranda smirked, eyes sparkling.
"Told you," she said.
Finch also crouched down next to them, his face pinpricked with blood and glass. "Bloody hell," he sighed. "If you can't trust your old gang, who can you trust?"
The rest of the party had either fled the room or taken up positions behind furniture. Eyes darted around the table, trying to figure out who had shot the glass.
"My brothers and sisters," boomed a voice, "it is time to repent our sins! We would not embrace aliens as our equals, and so now the Maker has come to embrace us!"
A man stood at the opposite end of the table from Shepard, suit jacket thrown open to reveal a bomb strapped to his chest. He also held a pistol, which he frantically pointed around the room.
"I think your security has some holes in it," remarked Miranda.
Finch frowned. "I have no idea how he got in here! Actually," he paused, looking at Shepard and Miranda, "I have no idea how you two managed to sneak in pistols, either."
Smiling wickedly, Miranda shrugged.
"Finch, you go over to the right," said Shepard. "I'll go down the left. We'll flank him and then attack. The bomb looks crude. I'm sure I can disarm him before he blows."
"Hold on, James, I can take care of this," whispered Miranda as she holstered her gun back into her boot. She smoothly stood up, her hands in the air.
"Sir, sir, please spare me," she said. "I never ran in this gang, and I never saw any of the people here until tonight. I wouldn't have come, but I...I needed the money."
The armed man's eyes focused down into slits. "I've never seen you before, and I've been with the Reds for a long, long while now. You are filled with sin, but not the sin I am here to collect upon. I am not without mercy. You may leave." He gestured to the door behind him.
Miranda walked down the dining room, not taking her eyes off the attacker. He couldn't seem to take his eyes off her, either. Shepard did not blame him. Dressed in a flowing gown of black, with a fantastically low neckline, his gaze was always drawn towards her. At least, that was the only excuse he could think of as to why he had not noticed any danger earlier.
As Miranda approached the man, her slow saunter turned into a sudden blur. With one smooth motion, she reached down into her boot for her pistol, aimed it at the man's face, and shot him. He fell backwards, and she knelt down to catch him, disarming the bomb casually with one hand.
"Amateur," sighed Miranda. ""You can all get up now, it's safe."
"Just some light dinnertime entertainment!" joked Finch, regaining his place at the head of the table. "Can someone get this cleaned up?"
Shepard walked over to Miranda and helped her to her feet. He smiled. "Good job, love. You're still as beautiful and deadly as the day we met."
Miranda gave him a quick kiss. "You're a lot more handsome than the first time I saw you. I still think I did a damn good job putting back your pieces." She looked over to Finch. "I'm not sure how I feel about your old friends. I think I might prefer a less exciting dinner party next time."
Shepard shrugged, "Well, not everyone we meet will be Normandy-crew caliber. But sometimes it's nice to see what you came from, if just to appreciate what you have now."
Rolling her eyes, Miranda replied, "Platitudes from the great Commander Shepard? Come now, I believe we can still salvage dessert."
Finch smiled at the couple as they sat back down next to him. "You have quite a woman there, Jim."
"I know," said Shepard. "Believe me, I know."