Title: Flaw in the design
Fandom: Mass Effect
Characters/Pairings: Miranda Lawson, Jack; Jackanda
Rating: K+
Warnings: horrible OOC characterization
Summary: It should horrify her, this weakness she feels. Instead it gives her an odd sense of comfort.
Disclaimer: Mass Effect is not mine.
A/N: prompt "You nearly died" from a 'send a number + a pairing = get a kiss' list from tumblr.
The door silently slides open. After a moment of hesitation, one dreadful second of panic, Miranda takes a deep breath and steps inside the room. The Med–Bay is quiet, every other member of the Normandy's crew is busy elsewhere. Feeling something twisting anxiously in her gut, Miranda steps closer to a cot, and looks at a woman lying there.
Subject Zero–
Jack.
Jack looks like she's sleeping. The machine behind her beeps in a steady rhythm. She's alive but unconscious. There's a purplish bruise on her cheek, her makeup is smudged, and yet she looks relaxed. Or maybe it's just that Miranda has never seen her calm. Jack usually has an ugly snarl on her face, and shouts how much she hates the world as a whole. Especially Cerberus. Especially Miranda.
Seeing her like this is odd, and part of Miranda wants to grab her and shake violently so she wakes up and they go back to their usual fighting and insulting each other.
It's unnatural that Jack, a force of nature, bold and unstoppable, is so still and quiet.
"You nearly died," Miranda whispers. She balls her hands into fists because the urge to touch Jack's face is too much. She wants– She needs to check if she's warm, if she's alive. Instead she stands there unmoving, perhaps afraid that if she lets herself do what she truly wants, she'll ruin everything.
It was yet another mission, nothing complicated – at first. Kill a group of bad guys that kidnapped a daughter of a wealthy businessman. The man was desperate, he offered to pay a lot if his precious girl returns unharmed. With the fate of the whole galaxy at stake, Miranda wondered why Shepard chose to do such insignificant things. Instead of rescuing some businessman's daughter, they should be fighting the Collectors.
Shepard's team lost contact with the ship, and something that was supposed to be a simple rescue mission quickly changed into a battle of life and death.
Then Miranda realized the tightness in her chest meant she was worried. Not about Shepard; the first human Spectre proved to be rather indestructible. Not about Garrus; he could take care of himself just fine.
She was worried about Jack. It was something she couldn't comprehend.
While the rest of the crew tried to contact the Commander, Miranda understood that no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't make her feelings disappear. She could only stare at the screen, barely comprehending what everyone else was saying.
Only when she heard Shepard's voice again, Miranda could push these intrusive thoughts away.
"We had to fight our way through," the commander explained. "Everything's alright now but Jack is..."
There was a pause. It lasted about five seconds yet it was the longest pause in Miranda's life.
"She's in bad shape."
It was like a punch in the chest. There was nothing she could do other than hide behind the protocol, giving orders, telling others what to do.
Shepard returned with the kidnaped girl. Miranda contacted the businessman, and made sure someone took care of his daughter before she headed back to her office. She waited, battling with the storm in her head. Then she decided she had to move, had to see with her own eyes if–
As ridiculous as it sounded, Miranda had to check if Jack was okay. She couldn't explain why it was something she absolutely had to do. It was as if someone was pulling invisible strings tied to her limbs, making her body move as they wanted.
Miranda still doesn't know how to explain her emotions. Her eyes move to Jack's face again, noticing every little detail, every small imperfection that somehow doesn't seem to matter. The more she looks, the more the aching inside her chest grows.
It should horrify her, this weakness she feels. Instead it gives her an odd sense of comfort. There's a flaw in her design. There's something in her rational mind that produces the most irrational thoughts imaginable.
Miranda closes her eyes. She wants to laugh, or cry, or both. She cares about a woman who hates her, cares so much she was horrified when Shepard said Jack was injured. It's a mystery how it even happened or why, and this discovery leaves her confused, and angry, and... fascinated by an amazing range of emotions she feels.
When Miranda opens her eyes, Jack is still there. Her chest raises and falls as she breaths.
And suddenly it's all too much, and Miranda needs to do something so utterly stupid that she doesn't even think about the consequences. Her body moves on its own, responding to one silly impulse she can't ignore because it's like a thorn in her chest, in her heart, in her very soul.
She shouldn't. But she wants, and there's nothing that can stop her, all her reason gone, as she leans in to place a kiss on Jack's lips.
It's nothing close to a proper kiss. Yet it means more, so much that the aching in her chest makes her paralysed as she stares in shock at the woman lying on the cot. Miranda takes a step back, touching her lips with her fingertips. Jack doesn't move; the machine behind her beeps in a steady rhythm.
"You nearly died," Miranda whispers again.
It sounds like an excuse. She shakes her head, trying to quiet her thoughts.
Ashamed and angry at herself, she quickly leaves the room.