Shepard was smiling. Or trying to. Miranda knew his moods and expressions too well to believe it was genuine. His grin was too broad and his movements too expansive. He lifted a half-full wine glass to her and patted the space next to him on the couch. "Lawson! Come and have a drink with the condemned man. I promise you that poisoning drinks is not one of the things I've been charged with." His red eyes shone with the same unwavering light that they always had, but she could imagine that his original green eyes would have been filled with a manic energy. "But they might find a way to toss that in too before they're done."
She frowned, but sat down anyway. He had been like this once before, in the wake of the botched operation that had left his scars permanent. There had been a suicide mission to distract him before, and she had been able to force him to interact with the rest of the crew even before their relationship had become romantic. She had been able to help him rebuild his self-confidence. This time, there was nothing she could do.
No, she corrected herself. I could save him, but I won't. Miranda didn't say anything. Shepard had told her once that the thing he liked most about her was that she had never lied to him. She refused to start now. Telling him everything would be all right would be an insult to the sacrifice that he had made and the one he had yet to make. "You haven't been charged with anything yet. The Alliance still doesn't know that you were even there.". That was the closest she could come to consolation.
"Yet. How long do you suppose I have anyway? Think I have enough time to take a vacation? I never really got the chance to take you on a real date. We should go somewhere. How do you feel about Serrice? I hear it's lovely in the spring." The energy left him suddenly, as if someone had punctured a balloon. "That's not too much to ask for is it?" he muttered. "A little more time?"
"Hackett will delay for as long as he can." There had been a time that she had almost wanted to see Shepard broken, to know that the incredible force of nature who could make people love him even when he was horribly disfigured, was human after all. How ironic that she gotten her juvenile wish long after he had proven there was more to him. "You still have friends in the Alliance who still remember what you've done for humanity. Anderson is still Councilor." The words felt hollow. It wasn't enough, and they both knew it.
"And the Illisive Man is probably rubbing his hands in glee that I'm going to be rotting in jail." He drained the last of the wine. "It's funny. Everyome—him, the Council, Hackett—are always telling me to do what I have to for the good of the galaxy. Well, I did what they asked. I stopped Saren. I stopped the Collectors. I stopped Kenson. And I get hung out to dry!"
He shook his head. "It's always like this. I screw up when it matters. I could save the galaxy, but not Kaidan. Not the colonists." He gave her a smile, genuine this time "Good thing I could save you. Sometimes I think you're all I've got left."
Miranda went cold. "Don't say things like that." Would he still be looking at her like that if he knew that she had the power to save him? She no longer had Cerberus' resources, but she still had contacts at every level of the Alliance. People who owed her favors. She could keep this investigation stymied in red tape for years, or at least keep the Alliance chasing false leads until the Reapers arrived and humanity was forced to see all that Shepard had done for them. She had hidden Oriana. She could hide him. He need not go to prison. All it would take was a long and costly war that would deprive humanity of the resources it would need to fight the Reapers. Shepard's imprisonment would satisfy the batarians desire for vengeance. One man lost his freedom so that millions might live. Maybe trillions. The Illusive Man would have called it an acceptable loss.
Miranda looked at Shepard. Really looked at him. The skin not covered by scars was ashen, and he seemed small and faded, as if a gust of wind would blow him away. She wasn't sure it was an acceptable loss at all.
The mission's too important to let personal feelings interfere. She had told him that when she first realized she might be falling for him. She'd been afraid that she would have to choose between saving him and stopping the Collectors. But she had imagined that it would be a quick decision made in the heat of battle. She could live with that. But this? Watching as the Alliance tightened the noose ever tighter? Hearing vipers like Khalisah al-Jilani slander him? Knowing that the ingrates on the Council would wash their hands of him for good? And knowing she could stop it? It was almost too much to endure. But she would endure it because the alternative was unthinkable. Just as he would turn himself in because the alternative was unthinkable.
She didn't tell him any of this. It would be needlessly cruel. There would be no purpose served in telling him what she could do, but wasn't. He would understand why she had to stay silent; perhaps he would even forgive her. But he had enough guilt to deal with. He didn't need hers, too.
Shepard raised his glass. "A toast to the ultimate sacrifice! May actually make a damn bit of difference!"
A burning sensation closed Miranda's throat. "To the ultimate sacrifice."
A/N: There will not be a sequel. There, will, however, be a series of "how we got here" prequels that will further delve into things like Shepard's scarring and flesh out the universe a bit more.