She stared around the repurposed cabin, shock warring with stoicism on her tanned face.
After they'd destroyed the Collector base, Shepard hadn't come near the room. The dead were dead, after all, and the memory of Miranda pinned under that fallen... well, best to leave the dead to memory only.
It had haunted her, though; Tali had been shot by a Collector, Thane had been swarmed, stung, and carried off. His had been the worse fate, but both of them... they'd died trying to accomplish something. They'd sacrificed themselves. It was a noble death, even if Shepard wasn't one to believe in nobility.
Miranda... had died afterwards. Her death weighed heavily on Shepard's mind; the Cerberus woman had been cheated of her victory. They'd killed the human-Reaper, ensured the base's destruction... and Miranda had been crushed before they'd reached safety, before anyone could even breathe a sigh of relief. To die like that, it was... horrible. Pointless.
It wasn't the only thing, either; Shepard remembered that argument between Miranda and Jack, and how badly the other woman had reacted.
Before they'd left on the shuttle, she'd intended to corner her and explain why exactly she had sided against her. Not that she was so sorry she'd change what she'd said if she could go back in time - as much as she respected Miranda, she'd needed the ever-volatile Jack on her side too.
Miranda was a professional - Shepard had felt sure she would understand.
Of course, there hadn't been time to settle things after they'd gotten back. Shepard didn't blame herself for the attack - or at least, that was what she told herself every time she felt that little tug of guilt - there was no way of knowing a signal had been hidden inside the IFF. After Joker had explained everything... she'd been so angry. Proud of Joker, too - not just for surviving but for getting help, even if that help meant unshackling EDI - but also incensed. Those were her people, and the Collectors had snatched them away from her as if they had the right. As if her people meant nothing.
And they'd died anyway, because Shepard hadn't wanted to spare one of her squad to protect them.
No, she told herself as she had in the time before. You're twisting it. They were trained crewmen. The Collectors captured them by a surprise attack - there hadn't been time to prepare for that kind of threat, even if they could stand against them. And it would have made no difference if you'd sent someone with them. It just would have held off the swarm, or the Collectors, or whatever got them, just a tiny bit longer.
But, some other part of her mind whispered insidiously, you'd just released them from their cocoons. They were weak. They needed you... and you failed them.
Shepard shivered, and forced the thoughts to one side. Made herself focus on what was now Liara's cabin. Only the bed, up at the back of the room, was the same. It felt vaguely sacriligeous that it was the only thing remaining.
It felt even worse to remember that it had all happened two years ago. And yet it all flooded back like it had happened only a month ago - Miranda, the Collectors, even Joker informing her over the commlink that Dr Chakwas, Kelly Chambers and all the others – none of them had made it back to the Normandy. Even Gabby and Donnelly were gone, their friendly poker game a thing of the past. And facing down that monstrous construct, the human-Reaper... regardless of what she'd told the psychologist, Shepard still had nightmares about it, and the Collectors and their hexagonal flight platforms, all fitting together like honeycomb.
The nightmares about Harbinger and his constant, empty threats had stopped about as soon as she'd realised that half of what he said sounded like he'd learned human speech by watching the galaxy's worst rape-fantasy porn. Frankly, it was amazing she wasn't having nightmares about that, now.
Over by the console, Glyph beeped at her. Shepard turned to look at the little VI, not quite seeing it for a moment, then shut down her thoughts. She'd been wallowing too long, and that wasn't healthy. She'd be damned if she gave in to second-guesses and self-pity over her past failures, then or now.
Regret was a part of life; Shepard had learned that a long time ago. You learned to move on, or you didn't last very long.