Introduction

Mass Effect: A Promise Kept, is a stand-alone story. The concept is a request from Storylover90, another member. While not quite an AU story (The major events are still in place, and neither Shepard nor Miranda's childhoods are detailed, and Shepard's is variable anyway), the concept sent to me involved some minor, but fairly noticeable differences to some of the ME-2 & 3 story arcs.

I have several projects going on right now, but the prose was coming to me, so it had to be put to paper (or keyboard) before it was lost. As I usually do, I am releasing it one or two chapters at a time.

Enjoy!

Chapter 1 – A Childhood Memory

2162 - Miranda Lawson stared out her window as the snow fell. Her father had moved them from Sidney, Australia to the new neighborhood in Arlington, Virginia in the United States in October, but the girl had not been able to make new friends. It was not for lack of trying; Miranda had impeccable manners and was very bright, but her father seemed to sabotage most every friendship she developed. It seemed that she was permitted nothing but tending to her studies, and they had moved frequently. Miranda's intelligence had made her stand out as well, and other kids were intimidated by her, further complicating her efforts at having normal friendships. It was now December, and school had let out for winter break, and Miranda found herself alone … and bored.

That was when she saw the moving van pull up to the house across the street. The new neighbors were finally moving in. The house had been empty for weeks, with a brief visit from a tall woman in an Alliance Navy officer's uniform, who had arrived with the realtor.

A car pulled into the driveway, and the same woman got out, but this time, a boy alighted from the passenger side. He looked to be younger than she, but not by too much. Miranda could not tell; the boy was tall, like the woman, presumably his mother, and wore casual clothes. Also like his mother, he carried himself with a military bearing. Miranda shook her head. She hated how the military took people and molded them, stamping out any individuality. Perhaps it reminded her too much of her own father's parenting style.

She sighed as she sat in the window, jutting her lower lip forward and blowing her hair from her eyes. She realized that the boy had seen her and was waving to her. Miranda was twelve years old, and the boy was no older than nine, but he was the first kid in the neighborhood who had taken any notice of her. His mother placed a hand on his shoulder, and Miranda could hear her scold the boy for looking into a girl's bedroom window. She laughed in spite of herself, and gave him a small wave back, smiling and giggling at the sight. She then slowly uncoiled her long legs from beneath her and got up from the ledge of the bay window.

"He's the first one to even acknowledge my existence in this backwater town," she said aloud. "I suppose I should reward him by going outside and welcoming him to the neighborhood." Her father was out, and she had completed all of the busywork assignments he had foisted on her, so she was ready to go outside anyway. Putting on a coat and boots, she bounded down the stairs and out the front door. "Freedom at last," she said to herself.

She saw the boy's mother directing the movers, and the boy trying to help, only to be waved off by the movers, and his mother to direct him to play in the snow. There had already been a good ten centimeters of snow on the ground before it started snowing in the morning, and by now, the snow on the lawn was up to almost fourteen centimeters. Seeing this, the boy began making a snow man. She watched him go to the car and remove a bucket filled with coal and a carrot, and a hat, apparently having anticipated the activity.

It was at that moment that Miranda realized that her father had denied her that simple pleasure. Playing; Doctor Lawson had no regard for it. Miranda was to be his legacy, a perfect girl who would be the next step in human development. When she was very young, she thought it made her special. Now, however, she saw it for what it was; stifling bondage. I'm going to go help that kid build his snowman, and I'm going to go home in soaked through clothes, she thought.

An eight year old John Amell got out of the car and took stock of their new home in Arlington, Virginia. The house was nice enough, though the development had sprung up around a much larger home that predated the development. The mansion had probably had a much larger front yard at one time, but progress and development had chipped away at the front yard until the mansion was only fifty feet from the street. From what John could tell, the mansion's back yard was expansive. He turned back to the much smaller rambler home that they were moving into, sighing. If only my father were here.

His mother, Hannah Amell, a former US Marine, and now a lieutenant in the newly formed Alliance Marines, and Zach Shepard, a Navy star ship captain, had been star crossed lovers from the moment they met, Hannah conceiving John on the night they had met. Though deeply in love, it seemed that they were never able to work out getting married and settling down. While Shepard had been deployed, a pregnant Hannah had to be relocated due to the crash of a transport ship nearby, and exposure to element zero.

Captain Shepard came to visit as often as he could, but John had only vague memories of him. He had been captain of the SSV Antietam, and in 2157, when John was only three, Captain Shepard was deployed in what would become known as the First Contact War. The Antietam was destroyed when Shepard's flanking action allowed the rest of the fleet to escape, costing the captain his life.

Up to now, John's life had been one of frequent moves, courtesy of the military, and a string of boyfriends for his mother, none of whom turned out to be stepfather material, and nearly all of whom found the young boy to be a distraction to their pursuit of his mother. This latest move had brought them from Camp Pendleton in San Diego to Arlington, VA, where John found himself mesmerized by the beautiful snowfall, something he had never seen in his brief life. It made him forget about the events that had led to his being here.

Though he offered assistance, the movers politely turned him away, and his mother had directed him to make the most of the snowfall. He had come prepared, and removed his bucket of coal, a carrot, and an old leather aviator's helmet from the station wagon, and set to making his creation. He put the bucket down and took a brief look across the street at the mansion. Something in the one of the bay windows caught his eye.

It was a girl, with long, wavy dark hair. Even from this distance, though, he could see her ice blue eyes. He was enraptured by the girl, and found himself waving to her. To his amazement, she waved back.

"John, don't you go staring into strange girls' bedrooms!" His mother's admonition was accompanied by a firm hand on his shoulder.

The girl smiled and waved back to him. It was the most beautiful smile he had ever seen. John had not developed a romantic interest in girls, but he could not help but admire this black haired beauty. He dutifully followed his mother's orders and went back to his snow man, suddenly thrilled to be living across from the mysterious girl in the large house.

Miranda's long legs carried her across the street and into the new neighbor's lawn in no time. At twelve, Miranda had grown tall, and was practically all legs, though her bosom had begun filling out. She felt awkward; long and gangly, with points in places that drew uncourteous stairs from male classmates. But her long limbs and her father's insistence that she practice dancing, fencing, and taekwondo had made her graceful, strong, and most of all, swift, and she now stood in front of the boy whose eye she had caught. He was working at the first ball of snow that would serve as the snow man's body. A hat, several chunks of coal in a bucket, and a carrot sat beside it. The boy seemed to sense her arrival and turned his head, lighting up at the sight of her.

"Hi; my name's John, John Amell." he stood, tall and straight, like a young marine, and extended his hand.

"Miranda Lawson," she replied, taking the offered hand. He was tall, though not as tall as she was, and she could see that he was probably only about eight or nine now that she stood face to face with him. "But you may call me Miri."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miri," he said formally.

Miranda giggled at the formal way the boy spoke. "And I am pleased to make yours, John," she laughed. "But enough formality; let's build your snowman."

He nodded, and then remarked, "You have a lovely voice, Miri."

Miranda giggled in spite of herself, strangely flattered by the boy's earnest words. She imagined that he had never heard an Australian accent outside of the vids.

It did not take long for the two of them to build the snowman, which he topped with an old, leather aviator's helmet, and dubbed, "Captain Shepard." He then bowed his head, a distant, sad expression on his face. It reminded her of someone visiting a grave.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes," he replied. "My father was Captain Shepard. He was the Antietam's shipmaster. He died in the first contact war."

Miranda put an arm around him, giving him a gentle squeeze. "I'm sorry, John."

"It's okay," he replied. "He saved a lot of lives. He was a hero. But now, he gets to be here, protecting mom and me."

"Have him protect my house too, John," she said. "My dad's a doctor and a businessman, not a soldier, like your dad was … or your mom."

"My mom's a marine," he proudly declared.

"My mom … I don't know what she was …" Miranda had never received a satisfactory answer from her father about what had happened to her mother. There was no death, no divorce; nothing. For all she knew, her mother was alive and well somewhere, having abandoned her daughter. She clenched her fists at the thought.

"Miri … are you alright?"

"Just … a little sad," she confessed. "I never knew my mom."

"Maybe my mom and your dad could meet," he offered. "If they married, you'd be my sister!"

Miranda laughed at his hopeful thought, but she would never want to subject her new friend to her father. "John, I like you better as my friend. You're my only one since I've moved here, you know?"

"Then we can play together," he said, now cheerful. "What do you want to do?"

"Make snow angels!" With that, Miranda flopped down on the ground and began flapping her arms and legs until she made the imprint in the ground of an angel.

John followed suit, and before long, the snowman was surrounded by snow angels. Miranda stood up, feeling the dampness of the snow through her jeans. Clothes soaking through, made a new friend, had fun, she thought. Mission accomplished! Then a mischievous smile cross her face, as an equally mischievous idea crossed her mind.

John stood up after making his last angel, and looked at the movers. The truck was a seemingly endless supply of furniture and boxes. Before he could contemplate further, he felt snow explode on his back, prompting him to whirl around, only to see a giggling, smiling Miri armed with a snowball.

"Snowball fight," she shouted, and then pelted him with another one.

John scooped up snow in each hand and pelted her back, surprised at how accurate he was. Soon, the two of them had taken up positions on opposite sides of the driveway, hurling snowballs over and around the car at each other before long, both of them were soaked through.

The pair laughed and giggled as they pelted each other with snow, until finally, Lieutenant Amell came out and brought it to a halt.

"You two are soaked!"

John dropped his snowball and stood at attention when his mother called out, prompting Miranda to fire off one last snowball, catching him on the shoulder. It exploded in a fine powder and sprayed his face and hair. "Sorry," she said sheepishly.

He smiled back at her, unable to be mad at his angelic new friend. "Mom, This is Miri Lawson. May we come inside for hot chocolate?"

"Pleased to meet you, Miri Lawson," Lieutenant Amell replied. "I was just about to suggest that, John. Come on, you two. Let's get you inside before you catch pneumonia!"

From that day, John and Miri became inseparable. Miranda recalled how bright the young John Amell had been, and how she had hoped that neither of them would move for some time. Days became weeks, and weeks became months, and the friendship between the two grew closer and stronger. By spring, he had grown noticeably, now long and lanky like Miranda. Both of them had April birthdays, John's on the eleventh and hers on the twelfth. Henry Lawson did not make a point of celebrating such things, but Lieutenant Amell invited Miranda to John's party. Miranda had been shocked to find that the party was for her as well. John and Miri had exchanged holo-pictures of each other as gifts, so that each could have their friend with them when they were apart.

She spent as much time as she could in the Amell house, which felt like more of a home than the cold, empty mansion she lived in. Lieutenant Hannah Amell had become like a mom to her, praising her, supporting her, and providing a motherly ear for Miranda when she needed it most.

The summer was filled with outdoor activity, and Miranda had been surprised by how much freedom her father had been giving her of late. Apparently, her hiking, biking, and playing with John had precipitated improvements in her studies, though she had no idea what they might have been; she had carried a perfect GPA ever since starting school.

It was a Sunday in late August, and the magical summer was winding down. The two had returned from cycling, and each was about to go to their separate home when it happened.

"I wish I could go home with you, Miri," John suddenly said, a dark, bitter look on his face.

"John, what's wrong?" She could not imagine the strong, independent minded boy wanting to live under Henry Lawson's roof.

"My mom … she has this new boyfriend. He hits her. I pushed him away from her when I caught him yesterday, and he punched me in the gut. She told him not to come back, but she was back on vid-chat with him this morning, trying to work it out … she was … apologizing to that scum-sucking bastard!"

"I always thought of your mother as being strong," Miranda observed. "She's a marine, for god's sake."

"Yeah, so is he. My dad was a marine too, before serving with the fleet. It makes sense for her to date a marine, but this guy is the worst. I like Lieutenant Toni a lot better, but I think he's involved with someone."

Miranda lowered the kickstand and got off of her bike and hugged him tightly. "That's terrible. If you need me, tell me; I'll do whatever I can." It was a promise from a thirteen year old girl, but she meant every word of it.

He held her tightly, crying on her shoulder for a few moments. Finally, he pulled himself together and stood up. He was still not as tall as Miranda, but the fierce defiance in his eyes made him look larger than he was.

"I hate that man," he declared. "I won't let him hurt her … ever again."

Something about his anger and determination told her to take him seriously. In that moment, she saw the man he would grow up to be. Instead of the nine year old son of a widowed mother in an abusive relationship, she saw the foundation of a strong protector, the kind of man she wished her father was. "I'm with you, John, whatever you need." She leaned down and kissed his forehead, bringing a smile to his face, and a blush to his cheeks. She giggled at the sight.

John sighed. "There's something else I need to tell you."

"Something bad?"

"No … I don't know. I get headaches, and at night, I've seen my hands glow. I can move things sometimes too … with my mind."

Miranda lit up at his words. "Can I tell you a secret?"

"You can tell me anything," he replied.

"I can too. It's biotics. I was born with them; one day, you'll be able to do amazing things with that power. Me too; I'm still just learning to harness it. Just don't let anyone know, at least not until you're grown; they'll whisk you off to Jump Zero, and I'll never see you again."

"Promise," he replied. "I'd miss you too."

She kissed his cheek. "I have to go, but be strong. You can vid-call me anytime; I just got an omni-tool, so I can chat with you anywhere."

"Thanks, Miri. You're my angel, you know?"

2183 – Commander John Shepard sat in his cabin aboard the SSV Normandy SR-1; the ship he had just hijacked with the help of Captain David Anderson. They were about to hit the Mu Relay and jump to Ilos, the fate of the galaxy resting on their shoulders, and all he could think about was that summer of 2162, when he had first met Miri. He still had a holo of her that she had given him for his birthday. The tall, gangly girl with the magnificent smile had captivated him from the moment he saw her in the window over two decades ago. But it was the promise of 2166 that burned in his mind as he looked at the holo of the then twelve year old Miri.

"If only I could see you … one last time before making the jump." He shook his head, kicking himself for not doing more to locate her after that fateful day twenty one years ago. He heard his door chime, distracting him from his reminiscing.

Ashley Williams entered, a look of … something other than mere friendship on her face. Shepard had been kind to her, and considered her a kindred spirit; kind of the little sister he never had. But she clearly had more on her mind than just friendship. He liked her a lot, but not the way she liked him. This would be difficult, but he had to be firm. He would keep his promise to Miri. Ashley and he could never be more than just friends. Besides, it's against regs anyway.

2185 – "Miranda! Are you listening?" The Illusive Man's voice pulled her from her reverie. "This is of vital importance, Miranda," he continued. "But if you have something else on your mind, I'm always available to talk."

Now thirty five, Miranda had not thought about John Amell … or the promise they had made … in almost twenty years. The memories were pleasant, but they had distracted her from the mission at hand.

"I'm sorry," she said, shaking herself to alertness. "Just a fond memory … a reminder of the cost humanity has paid since the First Contact War … and of what we're fighting for."

"Appropriate," he replied, taking a sip of his bourbon, then lighting a cigarette. "Humanity faces the greatest challenge of our brief existence, and nobody knows it. Our very survival depends upon the outcome of this operation. I trust that you're up to the task."

"Always," she said resolutely. Another fond memory of her childhood friend came to her, one from when they were both in their teens and made a wishful promise to each other, prompting her to smile. I'll find you one day, she thought, but she would not be deterred from her primary objective: finding Commander Shepard.