Jacob and Miranda crowded around the terminal at her desk, trying to maintain a respectful distance in the cramped space. This was not what he'd envisioned when she'd called him to her quarters. With her, it was always strictly business; just how watching vids on the extranet fit into that equation, he wasn't sure.

"Are you going to tell me what this is about or am I going to have to guess?"

"Well if you've suddenly become better at guessing what's on my mind, feel free to have a go at it," she replied, coolly. A smile curled her lips as she continued her search without pause.

"I'm just saying there are better things I could be doing with my time."

Like finding a way to distract himself from her scent that filled the room. The scent itself wasn't unpleasant- a bouquet of clean hair with just a hint of her favorite, asari made perfume- it was the memories of times past that it brought with it that bothered him.

Some nights he caught himself waxing nostalgic, reminiscing about the fun they had, the sense of stability she brought to his life, he missed it, missed her more than he thought he would, though he'd never admit that to her.

"Patience is a virtue, Mr. Taylor," she said as her fingers flew across the keys.

Soon the screen was filled with images of crates and boxes stacked atop one another in the belly of the ship. The camera panned to show two forms that seemed out of place among the regular shapes of shipping containers; one human one turian.

Miranda turned up the volume and the voice of the Commander filled the cabin.

"What's this?" the operative asked, but he already knew.

"Surveillance footage from last night," Miranda replied as she slid out of her chair and stood beside it, patting the headrest.

"I think you should take a look at it."

"I don't see what point there is in having me watch this," he said with a sigh. Shepard was the furthest thing from his mind and he aimed to keep it that way. He was only just now getting over the revulsion of having to deal with the man in any capacity.

"I thought we got rid of your spy cameras?"

"Well not all of them. This one is strictly for security purposes."

The cargo hold was the place that would need surveillance most. Dock hands sometimes needed to be supervised as they loaded the ship to make sure no one tried to make away with their merchandise. Usually a member of the crew was sent to oversee the work, and Miranda was supervising them. He wondered where else she might have the devices stowed for "security purposes."

The thought of arguing against watching the vid crossed his mind for an instant, but the idea died before the words reached his lips. Miranda had always been good at proving her logic, and any argument he could provide would be dismantled with an expertise he'd come to both admire and hate during his time working with her. As usual, she'd already won the argument long before it started.

Jacob took the offered seat and watched as Shepard, gave a retelling of his past with growing unease. It wasn't just the sense that he was eavesdropping on something private and personal, or listening to the horrors the Spectre had to face to get to this point. It was the regret.

The cocky, posturing Shepard was nowhere in sight leaving behind this lost soul, lamenting his loss. Not the loss of status or position, but of his innocence, his humanity, and Jacob had played a part in that.

Tarnith had been a disaster and that was only one person's fault; his. He'd let his emotions get the better of him. So set on punishing Shepard for his misdeed, things quickly got out of hand. All he'd wanted to take from the man was the illusion that he was still in command, instead he'd taken the use of his leg. The wound had been superficial, Shepard would make a full recovery, but he didn't feel any better about it.

Shepard had come to the armory looking for answers and all he'd got was a punch in the face. Jacob had been seething, too mad at himself to admit he was wrong, in his anger, he'd lashed out at the closest thing nearby, the person he should have been apologizing to.

The whole thing was regretful. It didn't have to go down that way, he was better than that. They both were.

Everyone had their vices, yet no one was cutting the man any slack, Jacob was the number one offender of that. The crew had shunned him for the most part, the stigma too strong for them to overlook. Even though the commander was still fighting for all their sakes, even though the one he'd hurt the most had forgiven him when no one else would.

The man dusted up, but he was the same man who saved the Council from a certain death during the geth attack, who saved the galaxy from certain doom at the hands of Sovereign. He'd been dusting even back then, what was the difference now?

Jacob felt like an idiot.

A sickening feeling crept into his gut with the realization that he'd kicked the man when he was down, not even attempting to understand. To top it all off, Shepard had to turn to the turian, someone not even of his own species, for acceptance. That wasn't what Cerberus was about.

"Do you need me for anything else?" Jacob kept his face grim, denying Miranda the satisfaction of knowing that she'd made her point.

"No, I suppose that will be all, Mr. Taylor."