He was hesitating.

Miranda sighed, shoulders sloping as she rolled her eyes, frustrated and confused...but mostly frustrated.

Ahead the door to the new Normandy stood open, decontamination finished...and Michael was doing nothing, standing right at the edge of entering...

Another sigh escaped Miranda. She was unsure what to make of Michael...for one she felt proud when she saw him, seeing her accomplishment, she had created life...he walked and talked thanks to her work...sure it was an accomplishment much dimmed by her genetic gifts...but it was still there. On the other hand it was a bit frustrating, the Illusive man was investing so much in a man whose genetic code was...sub-par if anything...yet the man had without a doubt done far more for humanity than Miranda herself had...she grudgingly admitted she felt some irritation with that.

He was also vexingly difficult to make sense of.

Miranda knew herself, she knew she was a good judge of character, that she could see at least the basic workings of a person with a few glances. Yet Michael was proving more difficult then the Illusive man to figure out.

Back at the Lazarus base he had seemed like such an animal...a primal thing like a hurricane or a rabid lion...and Miranda had for a moment feared his sanity had been destroyed. Still, even when that fear was dispelled she had been disappointed in the brutally of the man, they had been healing a man known for his ability to command...not a damn berserker!

Yet now...all energy seemed to have gone out of the man, he looked indecisive, morose and...introvert. Miranda could understand that everything felt new and confusing with him being brought back to life and such...but this was a man supposed to take charge and confront the unknown and do what was needed to be done...

So far Miranda wasn't impressed.

A shrug...and Michael finally moved, bare feet gently padding over the floor, reminding Miranda all too well about the way he had thrown aside the Cerberus uniform she'd offered him. Pointless defiance...clothes are clothes...not to mention entering your ship dressed in nothing but your torn hospital clothes is not a good way to make a first impression on the crew! This is no luxury liner, he should show a good example like a proper officer...

Of course he might not choose to help them after Freedom's Progress...but if he didn't he'd only prove he was a fool...and Miranda would do without him.

Miranda and Jacob followed, a brief glance confirming Miranda what she already had perceived of Jacob. During all their time working on Michael Jacob had spoken about Shepard with nothing but respect, and though there was a wariness in the way he looked at Shepard...he held an open mind, ready to accept the hero of the Alliance.

Miranda nearly sighed once more, a jab of sadness in her heart. Always so ready to trust...

To their left was the cockpit, the pilot...what's-his-name...already seated and looking eager to get going as he attentively looked at Michael for instructions...a Michael who was looking down at the floor, eyes soft as his gaze moved up over a wall, hand reaching up to touch the smoothness.

Shaking her head at the odd behaviour Miranda gestured at the pilot and his controls, she had already given instructions that they were to leave for Freedom's Progress the moment Michael was on board after all. He didn't react though, gaze fixed on Shepard...and Miranda frowned in anger as she gestured again.

This time the pilot moved, nearly reluctant as he moved to enact her order. I'll make a note of that...obviously discipline will be an issue with that one.

Ignoring the issue for the moment Miranda turned back to the more immediate concern of Shepard as the man slowly moved down the hallway towards the Combat Information Centre, making her and Jacob follow behind, both eyeing him curiously.

His steps were slow...pensive...and he seemed completely oblivious to the crew-members scattered around doing their duties...many turning to look at him, or at least dare glances as Miranda shot them cold looks enough to get them back to work.

He moved down the small stairs to the CIC, stopped, head turning left and right...and then up at the glowing galaxy map up ahead, surrounded by the long computer board for the command-crew...designed to be just like in the previous Normandy. A Turian standard...but as long as it works.

Ahead Michael took a shuddering breath, stepping up close to the computer board, hands coming to rest upon it as he looked up at the map...

Is that...tears in his eyes?

Miranda shook her head, there wasn't...but it was close...

Weak...

That's when EDI appeared before him, the round sphere atop a narrowing pillar looking at him with its holographic voice-visualizer...its voice softer then the usual synthetic ones: "Commander Shepard, welcome to the Normandy, I am EDI, the on-board AI, if you need assistance you only need to ask."

Miranda frowned, part in annoyance, part in worry. She acknowledged that having a shackled AI on board was a smart move to amplify the efficiency of the ship...even if its presence was enough to make anyone nervous. Miranda's chief concern however was how Michael would react, he had battled rogue AI for ages...she eyed him carefully.

The man only slowly took his eyes off the galaxy map...soft gaze moving to the hologram...and smiled, actually looking a little relieved as he whispered: "That I will, thank you."

What the...?

Further ahead Miranda found a distraction in Kelly Chambers, the red-headed yeoman was watching Michael with avid interest, no doubt making mental notes in her head of questions to ask him. Miranda frowned at that, personally she found a shrink on the ship useless. Miranda was good enough at judging people's abilities...and as long as people did their work there really wasn't a need for them to be distracted by some over-sympathising woman moving around to ask them about things that were their own damn business, and no one else's.

Michael's voice brought Miranda out of her glaring however, the man slowly easing away from the computer board with a distant smile on his lips: "Not the same..."

Referring to the Normandy no doubt...odd that a lack of similarities would yield a smile...we built it to be similar to help... "Yes, Shepard, this Normandy is larger then the previous ship, with three decks below, you can look through them at will. Below this we have life-support, medical and living quarters, below that engineering, then the hangar...we also have a deck above with the captain's quarter, your equipment is waiting for you there."

Michael didn't seem to hear, making Miranda bristle as she watched him idly move his hands over the computers as he moved to the left, heedless of the way he disturbed the crew as they got out of his way, eyes distant as he looked around himself.

This is supposed to be our Commander...great. Miranda shook her head, irritated even as she watched Jacob move up next to the slow-moving Michael, despite the difference in height and skin-tone there was a...similarity in the two. Probably the way they move... "Commander, we have the lab to our left here, and the armoury is over there to your right, I'll be glad to show you through it later to find weapons of your preference."'

Michael followed Jacob's pointing finger with his distant gaze...and offered a small nod, some of the pensiveness in his eyes fading. Soldiers... Miranda sighed, drawing out her steps to catch up with the two as they headed for the elevator ahead...shooting Yeoman Chambers a warning look while she passed, knowing the woman would try to introduce herself. Later, now we have important issues to deal with.

Stepping into the elevator Miranda was the one pressing the button to the captain's cabin...and the door instantly slid close as it moved to bring the three up to what the crew already, inaccurately, had begun to call the 'loft'.

It felt a little...awkward.

Miranda glanced to her left. Michael was merely staring at the door with a distant look on his face...a monster of a man she had spent two years reviving...and who now walked and talked effortlessly. And further of Jacob stood, obviously trying not to glance at her...they had worked together for two years with their project on Michael...and never talked about...the time before that. Back then they had been too busy really, but now...

It was uncomfortable.

A thump...and the door opened.

And yet they stood still.

Rolling her eyes Miranda looked to Michael: "Commander?"

To her surprise he was smirking, if ever so softly: "It's faster now."

What is?

There was no answer in Michael's face, the man slowly stepping into the room. Technically it wasn't bigger then Miranda's own room, but there was a spaciousness to it that her office lacked. And hers didn't sport such excessive things like the aquarium built into the left wall or the glass wall for the display of dozens of various model ships...things she couldn't understand why they had added, Shepard was unlikely to join them due to a luxurious room...that Miranda knew of him at least.

"This is your cabin Shepard, bed, sofa, bathroom, and of course the essential consoles, all you need to work on your own if you so desire it." Miranda said, taking a step forth to come up next to Michael as she gestured for the room.

He didn't seem to hear her, the man once more distant as he stared at his bed.

Or rather, the objects neatly arranged upon it.

Miranda was about to speak again...only to find herself stopping as she saw Jacob advance, one hand landing on Michael's shoulder as the soldier guided Michael down the two steps leading to the main floor...and closer to the bed. Jacob's voice was calm and steady as always, yet held a hint of softness in it as he released Michael's shoulder: "Commander, do you want a minute? If you need time to change I mean..."

Again, no response from Michael, the man moving down on one knee before the bed, right hand moving forth to gently brush over the pitch-black breastplate of his armour, something akin to reverence in his movement as his fingers brushed the 'N7' mark on the collar.

This is ridiculous, armour is armour, it's an item...one shouldn't hold such things close to heart, nothing that you can loose...

Sighing, Miranda put her hands behind her back, keeping straight as a proper officer should as she looked down at the kneeling Sheppard, still dressed in torn rags as he touched the dark armour. "We of course knew your size, so they have been made to fit you, replacements and different pieces are in the armoury, I'm sure you and Jacob can find what works for you. Meanwhile I suggest you suit up, I've taken the liberty to set a course for Freedom's Progress and at FTL it's not far away, so do not take too long. After all, with it so close we hope to be the first ones on the site and as such-"

She stopped, she didn't listen to many people...but Jacob's raised hand was one thing she knew as a suggestion...and usually a good one.

The man had taken a step further away from Michael...and was turning to walk away even as a strange sound escaped him, the man reaching out to touch the helmet resting on the bed...hands shaking.

What is going on...? Miranda frowned, only to flinch as Jacob placed a heavy hand on her shoulder, the man's eyes holding a hint of sadness as he nodded towards the elevator.

Reluctantly Miranda turned, knowing she really ought to stay and make sense of it all, if nothing else so she could report it to the Illusive man...but Jacob's gesture broke no argument...and she was frankly getting tired of their supposed 'Commander'.

As she stepped into the elevator she heard a small sob...and shook her head in irritation, uncaring of Jacob's glare.

Weak...

8

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8

Thanks to Abydos Jackson, always.