The following contains spoilers from the leaked beta file, including partial squad composition. Fair warning. I have, however, tweaked Miranda's role the tiniest fraction. And yes, the Shepard here is the same Matt from Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, though references to that story are minimal. Consider this both epilogue and apology for that story.

The intercom buzzed to sudden life. Liara. "Shepard? Can I see you for a moment?"

Matt finished adjusting the sight on his pistol. "Be right there." He didn't really want to deal with people right now. They'd saved the krogan—well, technically Mordin had saved them while Matt shot the things trying to stop him—and there was much backslapping and rejoicing all round. Except by him. Everyone thought he'd done it to save the species, but the truth was that he thought the krogan army would be a bit more useful. Buy the scientists the time they needed to construct the Crucible. He only hoped it was the right call and they wouldn't be dealing with another Krogan Rebellion in a few generations.

Miranda rubbed off on me. Matt winced. Thinking of Miranda was still a bit like being knifed. He exited the armory. The retrofitted SR-2 was still a strange and unfamiliar place and he still blinked to find himself on the crew deck instead of the CIC. The observation decks were gone, replaced by gun batteries. Crew quarters had been expanded. It was quieter. Whatever their faults, the Cerberus crew had always been talking and laughing about one thing or the other. Had Alliance crewmen always talked in such low, grim tones and he had simply forgotten? Or was it the war?

Liara's office was almost a straight shot from the armory. Technically, it probably should have been his quarters since Kaidan was ranking officer, but Liara needed the space more than he did. Every square centimeter of the place was covered with computers that beeped and chimed at irregular intervals. The soft bed had become a hard cot, and the couches were long gone. Not even a whiff of the distinctive jasmine scent that had once filled these quarters.

Liara looked up from one of those monitors. "I've been thinking about Cerberus," she said without preamble. "Why they attacked us on Sur'Kesh. It makes no sense. You gave them the base. They should still want the same things you do. Unless they're indoctrinated. And that wouldn't explain the increase in manpower and equipment."

Matt forced himself to smile. "What? The Shadow Broker doesn't have all the answers?"

She glared at him. "I'm doing the best I can with what I have. You try running an information network from here." She took a deep breath and her expression was suddenly unreadable. "We need Miranda. She's still Cerberus, technically. Maybe she can help us figure it out."

Matt grunted. Miranda had vanished after he'd turned himself in. He'd half-hoped for some message while he was locked up or at least once he'd gone back to the Normandy. But there'd been nothing. Of course, it could have been because the Reapers had gutted galaxy-wide communication instead of being in a ditch somewhere. Matt was always one to look on the bright side. "You think she's alive?"

"I know it. She's on the Citadel, and she goes by the name Katriana Solheim now."

Before Matt quite realized what he was doing, he'd taken two steps forward. "You knew she was alive, and you never told me?" Alive. Miranda was alive. Not blown to bits or turned into a husk. The idea seemed incredible. He'd lost his family to Mindoir and his unit to Akuze. Losing people was what he did, just as much as saving the day. But not this time.

"Calm down, Shepard. I only confirmed it this morning. She's a slippery one. I can see why you like her." Her voice was wistful, and Matt could suddenly see a piece of N7 armor in a glass case as clearly as if it had been standing there. He wasn't the only one here who was pining. "We need her. And maybe you'll do something besides mope."

"I do not mope. Do you think Kaidan will mind the detour?"

"Not if you tell him it's for the mission. And the crew will listen to you. You're a hero now that the Reapers are here. They'll go where you want."

Matt didn't feel like a hero. He felt like he was playing chess against a grandmaster with the entire galaxy as both pieces and prize. Sacrifice this and hope you can get that before your opponent notices. He'd never been that good at chess. If the galaxy survived, there would probably be a couple of dozen movies about all this. That would make him a badass full of witty one-liners who slept with every beautiful woman within a ten kilometer radius. His art would be gone. The uncertainty would be gone. Saviors of the galaxy didn't draw, and they didn't doubt. They certainly didn't long for anything more than to see their girlfriend again.

He could be the savior of the galaxy later. "I'll talk to Kaidan. He loves the steak at this one Presidium restaurant. Maybe if I bribe him with food, he'll take pity on me."

In the end, no bribery had been necessary. Kaidan had simply shaken his head sadly and set course for the Citadel while Liara used the remnants of her contact network to arrange a meeting. And so, Matt found himself sitting on a bench in a place residents of the Presidium simply called the Park. Flora and fauna from around the galaxy had been arranged into a false forest. Birds from Thessia tweeted atop a redwood from the American Northwest. Matt had been here once before and liked it. It was an island of solitude amidst the bustle of the Citadel. He could almost pretend that he was back on Mindoir instead of at the heart of the galaxy. And it was the perfect place to work.

Work he did. There was a time he thought he could've been a professional artist, before the batarians came and his biotics had manifested. Matt had done his duty and joined the military, but he could no more stop drawing than breathing. He sketched the pond in front of him in quick, smooth strokes. The challenge would be to capture the tranquility of the place. The duck lazing on the water had no clue there was a war on. People—he—needed reminders that there were still islands of peace even after all this. But the sketch was proving difficult. It was hard to capture peace when his hands were shaking and his stomach was doing gymnastics. Miranda might not come. Cerberus could have sent her to her death. Some indoctrinated Reaper servant could have assassinated her. She might have moved on. Six months was a long time, and only the arrival of the Reapers had saved him from court-martial and execution. He couldn't blame Miranda for considering the relationship over.

A twig snapped, just loud enough for him to hear. Matt turned.

Miranda.

For a moment he could only stare at her. Her father had wanted physical perfection, heedless of the fact that no human was perfect. Her face was perfectly formed, without so much as an oversized pore to detract from the ideal. He'd been terrified the first time he saw her, only mostly convinced that the woman was indeed human. And perhaps she wasn't. Perhaps she was a goddess. Mere mortals weren't supposed to raise the dead or survive suicide missions with barely a scratch. Miranda had done all that and more.

She came closer, not speaking, and dozens of small details Matt hadn't even realized he'd forgotten until the moment came into sudden focus. The translucent vein running down her throat, the subtle variations in skin tone. There were dark spots like bruises under her eyes, and she wore no makeup. That was new. He'd never known Miranda to be anything other than impeccably turned out. The grey and white jacket she wore fit her well enough, but even he could tell it wasn't exactly fashionable. If she was a goddess, she was a haggard one. And yet, her eyes were unchanged: the same brilliant mix of blue and gray that had fascinated him. The color of space, Matt had called them. Miranda had cuffed him on the shoulder and called him a sentimental ass. He still thought it was true.

He was dimly aware that he ought to go to her. That was the way it worked in every movie he had ever seen. The lovers, reunited at last, embraced each other tearfully and with many promises to never be apart again. But he couldn't move. Miranda drew ever closer. The scent of jasmine filled his nostrils for the first time in months, and he could hear her soft breathing.

She smiled at him. It was a strange, crooked smile that seemed as if it should have belonged to another, less troubled woman. Matt had only seen it once before, the first time she'd spoke of Niket. "You've caused me quite a bit of trouble, Commander. You'd better have a good explanation."

Her tone was light and playful. And that, finally, was enough to break the spell. Miranda was here, alive and whole. She wasn't broken or miserable or any of the thousand others fates he had feared for her. Matt tossed the sketchbook to one side and launched himself at her. She was warm and solid. He could feel the lean muscle through her clothes. Miranda let out an "oof" of surprise as he crushed her to him. Her arms came up stiffly to return the embrace. Matt buried his face in her neck. "Miranda," he murmured against her.

"Yes, it's me. I'm here." Her voice cracked almost imperceptibly on the last word. She drew back and looked him in the face. He'd been studied by Miranda many times as she calculated his value to the mission, whether she could trust him with the knowledge of Oriana, whether he was joking when he promised not to die. He was almost used to it. Almost. She frowned at him. "Your scars are showing." As if to prove it, she traced one finger down the length of his jaw.

"It's been a rough six months." He smiled at her. "But getting better."

She shook her head, amused that exasperated. "I thought about breaking in to see you. Alliance security being what it is, it would have been trivial. Maybe I should've risked it."

"Why didn't you?"

She led him back over to the bench. They sat, and she put her hands in his. "The same reason I didn't write to you before Liara tracked me down. Cerberus has gone mad. I was afraid they would use me to find you, and neither of us can afford that kind of risk. I know what happened on Sur'Kesh, and that's only the half of it."

Matt tensed. "What's going on? Are you in trouble?"

"Not yet. I'm not as trusted as I once was, though. Nothing but minor espionage work." She took a deep breath. "And old friends, people who have worked for Cerberus almost as long as I have, have been disappearing without a word. One day, I'm speaking to them, the next they've vanished without a trace. And yet, we're growing faster than ever. The Illusive Man doesn't have cells anymore. He has an army. And, it's probably paranoia, but …"

"I don't like the sound of that. But what?"

"My father's systems are suddenly very active. He's determined to get his hands on Oriana. Nothing new there, but he's talking about 'mending fences with old friends' to do it. I wonder if he might be trying to negotiate a deal with the Illusive Man. I moved Oriana again, but that won't be enough if I'm right. And my father's money would certainly help pay for the giant robots Cerberus has running around."

Matt squeezed her hands. "If he comes after Oriana, we'll stop them."

Her smile turned sad. "You will do no such thing. Remember what I told you once? You've got that fire that makes people follow you into hell. The Alliance is falling, and the Council are bloody idiots too busy bickering to do anything useful. Someone has to rally the galaxy, and I'm afraid you've drawn short straw. Let me worry about Oriana, if there's anything to worry about."

"You could still come with me. Like you said, Cerberus has gone crazy. There's nothing left for you there anymore." And he would know she was safe. They could fight together just like old times. She reassured him that he was making the right set of sacrifices or challenge him when she thought he wasn't. The war might even be something close to bearable.

"No!" The vehemence of her response made Matt start. "I was with Cerberus for years because I believed in the advancement of humanity. I still do, and I made other people believe. I recruited half of your old crew personally by telling them joining Cerberus was the only way they could fight the Reapers. But now they almost seemed to be helping them. I don't know why, but if Cerberus has betrayed humanity, I owe it to my men to bring them down."

Matt watched her. Miranda's eyes were dark and dangerous, the color of the sky during a lightning storm. This was the woman for whom nothing was impossible. It was easy to believe that Cerberus, Mr. Eldfell, and even the Reapers could fall merely because she willed it. "I'll have to be subtle, but I'll find out what's going on and put a stop to it. After that debacle on Sur'Kesh, you're going to need an inside man." She smiled. "Or woman, as the case may be. And I can't be that on the Normandy."

"I know. It's just…I've missed you. Sometimes I think you're the only person in the world I could ever really talk to."

Something strange passed over Miranda's face. Tenderness? Grief? Pain? It was impossible to say. "I've missed you too. Strange, I'm not really accustomed to missing people. But you can talk to me now. Tell me how your mission's going."

So, he did. He told her about his frantic flight from Earth, leaving Anderson behind and watching an unknown child die. The mad dash to find allies and resources to help build the Crucible. Saving the krogan and hoping he hadn't doomed the galaxy. Liara fleeing the Shadow Broker ship with only the files she could carry—"She stole your office, by the way."—and her exhilaration at finding the last of the Protheans. Miranda listened carefully, asking probing questions. Did they have any idea what the Reapers' weaknesses were? If he couldn't get salarian technical expertise, how did he plan to actually build the Crucible? Could this Prothean be trusted? Matt answered her as best he could, and it was almost like having, not just his girlfriend, but his executive officer, back.

"I can't fault you for choosing the krogan. If the armies of husks are as large and varied as they seem, we're going to need shock troops. And Wrex is far less likely to break his word to you than the dalatrass. Well done."

Matt flushed. Praise from Miranda was rare. Praise for his strategic ability was almost unheard of. "I do my best."

"Keep doing your best and we might just win this war."

"And bring Cerberus and the Reapers down." He touched her arm. "I don't think you're capable of doing less than your best, but you and I both know how dangerous this is." Promise me you won't die. "Promise me that you'll be careful."

Miranda didn't answer out loud. Instead, she seized his face in her hands and kissed him. Matt kissed her back, clinging to her the way a drowning man clung to the last piece of driftwood. Miranda's mouth was insistent and demanding, and Matt was more than content to follow her lead. He twisted his hands in her hair. Running his fingers through it had always felt like an impossibly decadent pleasure. Soft, silky perfection. Miranda's hands roamed his shoulders and arms, exploring her handiwork. Desire shot through Matt like a shot of Serrice Ice Brandy. A man could happily drown in a kiss like this one.

It was Miranda who pulled back first. Her cheeks were red with exertion and desire. Matt felt smug. At least he could affect her as she affected him. Miranda shot a significant look at the zipper of his trousers. Matt felt the heat intensify. An artist had to have a good imagination, but there were limits to what even a good imagination and his right hand could do for six months. He could bury himself in her, truly forget this war for a little while. He felt himself growing hard at the thought.

Miranda smirked. "Eager, are we? But I think I'll abstain just this once."

"What?"

"I'm considering it my incentive to be careful. Yours too." She ran a hand down his chest. "I promise you that it will be worth the wait. And I honor my promises."

"I know," Matt managed shakily. And I'm going to need a very cold shower.

She turned serious. "But now you should go. The Illusive Man has eyes everywhere, and even I can't give him the slip forever." She stood and turned to go.

"Wait!" Miranda had just got here, and now she was leaving for who knew how long? "When will I see you again?"

"Soon." Miranda smiled a predatory smile that normally heralded trouble for Matt. "Perhaps sooner than you think."

It was another two days before they left the Citadel. Shut down some profiteers hoping to make a fortune hoarding medical supplies had proven unexpectedly time-consuming. In his free time, Matt devoted himself to fleshing out the sketch of the pond. There was a new addition: a raven-haired water goddess who was both master and protector of all she surveyed. It was she who would protect the fragile tranquility. One of his better pieces, if he did say so himself. There was no sign of Miranda. Matt could only pray she was safe.

The night before they left, Liara came to his quarters bearing a small, plainly wrapped package. "This was left with one of my operatives. It was addressed to you. No card, but we've confirmed it's not an explosive or biological weapon."

Matt unwrapped the package gingerly. It was a silver disk about fifteen centimeters in diameter, containing nothing but a single black button. "Do you have any idea what this is?"

"I think… I think it's a small quantum-entanglement device. Cerberus had something similar in development before their shift in priorities."

Cerberus? Either this was some kind of sick joke or… or he hardly dared hope. Matt pressed the button.

"I was wondering how long it would take this to get to you," said a familiar voice. "I swiped a pair from one of our on-station R&D labs." The holographic Miranda didn't even try to hide her smirk.

A hot lump formed in Matt' throat. "I—I thought you said contact was too dangerous."

"It's risky. We will be able to talk every day. We still have our missions after all. But you're worth a little risk, I think. Particularly if it motivates you to do something about those damn scars."

Matt tried to laugh, but it came out closer to a sob. "Yes ma'am."

"Oh, and Matt?"

"Hm?"

"I missed you too."