"They're using you, Jane."
It sounded good, at first: resurrecting Shepard. Recovering the galaxy's last hope against the Reapers. The fucking Council just replaced her. How was that even remotely justifiable?
Then it was all lies and denial. Baiting the Collectors with human colonies. Desecrating the Normandy with fucking Reaper scraps.
It's a joke.
She isn't laughing.
"I'm sorry."
With trembling hands, Joker removes the sterile plastic shroud from her still-mending body and brushes his lips against hers. The shitstorm Miranda must be having. It doesn't matter, now.
"I love you."
The detonation ends it.
They blossom into space, inseparable.