X.
Eight months.
That was how much time had passed before Miranda saw a familiar face. She had once believed that she never would again; that when she walked out of the club that night, she would never again be faced with anyone from her old life, and thus never made to face the consequences of her decision to leave. It had been such a foolish thought. Miranda had known better than most that the Reaper invasion was drawing nearer, and with it, a coming war that would no doubt last for decades. Shepard would be released and she would need allies; assets, to help her and the Alliance in the coming war, and Miranda knew that, eventually, she would become one of them.
But she didn't expect it to happen so soon.
Earth had been invaded two months prior, and with it came Shepard's inevitable release. Miranda had been on Illium when she heard the news, putting in place extra protection for Oriana, as she had heard her father had picked up a lead on her sister's whereabouts. It wasn't the first time that had happened, and Miranda hadn't been too concerned because all of his other leads, thanks to her, had resulted in a dead end. Still, she remembered seeing the news report as though it had happened yesterday, and Miranda's heart ached for her former Commander, as Earth had been her home once.
And then, no more than a week ago, all of her contacts on Oriana went dark. She knew it was her father's doing, that he had finally caught up to her, but she refused to panic because if nothing else, Henry Lawson wanted Oriana alive; she was his last living legacy, and the heir to his dynasty. Miranda had resolved to not involve anyone else until she could gather more intel on the situation, but then the reports started filtering in about the Cerberus attack on Grissom Academy.
And suddenly, Miranda couldn't breathe.
Miranda would be lying if she said she hadn't been checking up on Jack; after keeping Oriana safe, knowing that the former convict was safe as well was her top priority. She had briefly feared after leaving that Jack wouldn't take that job at the Academy just to spite her, as certainly she must have known that was why Miranda had left, but in the end, one of her contacts that had an in with the director of the school informed her that Jack had, eventually, accepted their offer. Miranda had cried herself to sleep that night; all of the emotions, all of the fear, regret, and guilt she had felt for leaving finally being overridden by the comfort and validation that it had all been worth it. Miranda was devastated for herself, and probably would be for a good long while, but for Jack… for Jack she was happy, and she was so proud that the woman had chosen to go there.
As hard as it may have been, in the end, Miranda had known that she had made the right choice.
It still hurt though, even eight months later, having to walk away from her. Miranda had thought it would fade; that what she had with Jack really was just some kind of desperation for closeness left over from the prospect of dying, and then surviving the impossible, but what she felt never lessened, it never dimmed. Miranda wasn't good at attachments, and even less with trying to learn to live without them, but at the same time, she knew she had to learn, because there really was no going back. Not only was she certain that Jack would punch her in the face the next time she saw her, if not try to kill her outright for what she no doubt saw as a betrayal, but the Illusive Man was still trying to track Miranda down, and bringing Cerberus to the Academy's doors would have had devastating consequences.
Although in the end, it seemed Cerberus had found them anyway.
After the attack on the school, Miranda had lost all contact with her source that provided her with intel on Jack, and Miranda found herself fearing the worst as she finally contacted Shepard. She had heard a rumor that the Commander had been there when it happened, and as that was her only lead, she was desperate to track it down. She needed to know if Jack was okay.
At the first sight of Shepard stepping through the airlock on the Citadel, Miranda felt something inside of her break. "Shepard!" she called, the name breaking in her throat as anxiety and fear inhabited the pit of her stomach, threatening to make her nauseous.
She met the Commander halfway, and everything she was feeling must have shown on her face, because the first thing the woman said to her was, "She's okay, Miranda."
Miranda felt such an intense wave of relief wash over her that she had to lean against the wall, or else she was certain she would fall over. "Oh, thank god," she exhaled, her hand clutching the fabric that covered her abdomen as she forced herself to breathe. Miranda was aware just how hard it was to kill Jack, and yet even still, the moment she had heard about the attack, she was terrified that the woman hadn't made it out of there alive.
Shepard had her arms crossed over her chest as she looked at her, her expression unreadable. "I assumed that was why you were contacting me; I would have been surprised if you hadn't been keeping tabs on her." A beat, and then, "I didn't think I would ever see you again."
"I'm sorry," Miranda apologized after she had finally felt herself begin to calm. "I shouldn't have—I know I shouldn't have left in the way that I did, but at the time, it seemed like the best thing to do."
"I understand why you did it," Shepard responded, this edge to her tone that couldn't be ignored. "It took me awhile to piece it together, but when I finally did, I understood why you walked away. And I'm not denying that, in the long run, it was the best thing for Jack at the time; but that being said, you could have handled it a lot better."
Miranda went to open her mouth, to try to explain herself, to try to make the guilt she suddenly felt in the pit of her stomach disappear, but Shepard wouldn't let her get a word out. "We searched for you for over a week, Miranda. Over a week, and you know that everyone had put their own plans in motion after our night on Omega; but we all held them off for just a little bit longer, because Jack was adamant that you wouldn't have left without saying goodbye. She thought something horrible had happened to you."
The guilt was growing, beginning to gnaw away at her insides, and Miranda tried to make her stop by pleading, "Shepard…" but the woman was having none of it.
"I'm not finished," Shepard responded sharply, and all of Miranda's words died in her throat. "Eventually, we heard from one of Kasumi's contacts that you had been spotted on Nos Astra, boarding a shuttle to an unknown location. We were further informed that you were completely unharmed, and seemed to be doing so at your own volition which, as you can imagine, finally forced Jack to face the truth."
Miranda felt sick.
"Let me ask you something, Miranda; have you ever seen her cry?"
Miranda felt the hot sting of tears begin to well up in her own eyes at that question, knowing exactly where this was going. She couldn't meet Shepard's gaze when she answered, "No, Commander," her voice strained from the tightness that inhabited her throat.
"Well I hope you never do," Shepard told her, voice hardened and gaze unforgiving as she stared down her former subordinate. "Because I have seen a lot, have been hardened to a lot, but that? That was heartbreaking. You devastated her, Miranda; and she tore my ship apart in a blind rage as she cried and cursed and swore to every God imaginable that the next time she saw you, she would kill you for what you did to her."
A hot tear scorched its way down Miranda's cheek then and she had to turn away from her, violently wiping it away as she tried to get herself under control; she couldn't break down right now, not here, in the middle of the Citadel. It would garner far too much attention, and that was the last thing she needed right now.
"I'll pay for the damage," Miranda tried meekly, just trying to somehow make this situation better, even though she knew the destruction she had caused Jack was far more than what the Normandy bore. Jack had trusted her, had let her in, and Miranda had just… she had just left. It was for the right reasons, yes, but that didn't make it any less painful.
"I don't care about the damage to my ship, Miranda," Shepard told her, brushing that off as though it was completely inconsequential and maybe, under the circumstances, it really was. "I just wanted you to know exactly what the repercussions of your actions were, because what you did to her was terrible."
"Do you think I don't know that?!" Miranda exclaimed, whipping around to face her. She knew she must have tear tracks running down her cheeks, but in that moment, she really couldn't care less about her appearance. "Do you think even a day goes by where I don't regret walking out on her? But I couldn't do that to her. I couldn't just let her come with me and be on the run for yet another time in her life, when she had something better waiting for her; when she finally had the chance to be more than just another fugitive, more than what everyone else, and what even she believed she amounted to. Keeping her with me, Shepard… keeping her with me would have been selfish, and I cared far too much to do that to her."
"Like I said, I understand why you did it," Shepard told her, not at all phased by the tears that made their way down Miranda's cheeks; but maybe in the end, that was her goal in telling her all this. Shepard wanted her to feel guilty, but the thing of it was, Miranda always felt guilty; and she always hated herself for making what was supposed to be the right decision. "But that didn't mean you had to leave without saying goodbye, and without a word of explanation. If you felt you needed to leave her so that Jack could do something better with her life, you should have told her that."
Miranda pursed her lips, willing herself to stop crying; it was achieving nothing, and Miranda hated waste. "I thought… I had thought it would be easier—"
"On who?" Shepard countered. "Her… or you?"
"Please just—please stop," Miranda begged, unable to deal with this any longer. "I got your point, Shepard; I know I should have handled it better, I know I hurt her, and if I could take it back and do it the right way then I would, but I can't. This is what's happened, and I can't change that, no matter how much I may wish to."
Shepard looked at her for a long time before she finally moved, wrapping an arm around Miranda's shoulders in a friendly, comforting gesture. "Alright, I guess I've tortured you enough," she relented with a small sigh, guiding Miranda towards the docking bay elevator.
Her tone was instantly lighter though, and it coaxed Miranda off of the emotional cliff face she was previously teetering on. She had assumed Shepard would be upset with her, but she hadn't fathomed it would be that much. In the end though, the Commander did seem to have a bit of a mother hen complex, and wasn't exactly shy in expressing her disappointment in her charges; current or previous. Miranda should have known that she wouldn't get off easy, and in all honesty, she also knew that she deserved what she got; what she had done to Jack truly was awful – emotionally speaking, anyhow – and really rather selfish, despite her attempt at doing the exact opposite.
She had never been very good at relationships though.
"So how about we go grab a drink, and spend an hour or two swapping stories about the last couple months," Shepard suggested as they walked side by side, their steps falling into sync with one another. "Because as much as it pains me to admit it, a part of me actually misses hearing you pass judgment on my work ethic in that condescending little tone of yours."
As Miranda was still feeling rather emotional, her snort of amusement almost came out more like a choked wheeze as she placed her hand over her mouth and tried to will herself to calm down. Shepard sighed, squeezing Miranda's shoulder reassuringly. "It will hurt less," she told her softly as they entered the elevator. "In time, it'll hurt less."
All Miranda could do was nod in acknowledgement, and hope that she was right.
[x]
The next time Miranda spoke to Shepard, it was via holoterminal. The Citadel had just been attacked by Cerberus, so meeting there in person was out of the question; as it was already, she had a plethora of Cerberus assassins hunting her, and so staying out of sight was a necessity. Shepard informed her that Kai Leng had been involved on the assassination attempt of the Salarian councilor, and outside of being surprised that the bastard was still alive, she wasn't surprised at all to hear that since he was, he was directly involved; the Illusive Man always did like his little pets after all, and Kai Leng had been one of his prized ones for quite some time. Much like Miranda herself had been, until she had defected and turned against him.
She was sorry to hear about Thane, who was currently in critical condition at Huerta Memorial after the attack on the councilor, and about Mordin, who Shepard said had sacrificed his life a few weeks previously in order to cure the Krogan genophage. In the middle of a war casualties were inevitable, but that didn't make it any easier, and it filled Miranda with an overwhelming sense of anxiety as she feared the next notification of death that would come her way. As it was already, too many people she cared for had been sacrificed in the name of this war, and although she wished that would be the end of it, the chances of that were incredibly slim.
Shepard asked about Oriana, as Miranda had expressed her concerns about her sister's safety the last time they had met, and Miranda told her that she was certain that her father had taken her now; but more than that, that she had reason to believe that Henry Lawson was working for the Illusive Man. She still wasn't sure on all the facts however, and so when Shepard offered her assistance Miranda declined; the Commander had so much else to worry about right then, that she didn't want to concern her with her own problems. In the end, she would save Oriana on her own; she was certain of it.
Before they parted ways, Miranda tentatively asked about Jack, and Shepard told her that her and her students were now on the front lines of the war and were, according to Jack, 'kicking ass and taking names later'. While it made Miranda smile to hear that she was doing well, Jack being on the front lines of this war left her with a great feeling of unrest. And it must have shown on her face, because immediately afterwards, Shepard told her not to worry; that Jack, and her students, were all incredibly talented, and could take care of themselves. Miranda didn't doubt that and yet still, with death all around them lately, it was hard not to be worried for her.
Shepard had told her before, about how close Jack seemed to be with those kids. Miranda had been curious, as Jack seemed to think she wouldn't be any good at the job, but according to Shepard, she truly was the best person for it. She seemed to have formed a strong bond with them, calling her students 'her kids,' and if Miranda still had any doubt that she had done the right thing, it dissipated with that knowledge. Still, how she had left her didn't sit right with her anymore, and probably wouldn't for a long time.
Eventually, after everything had calmed down a little, Miranda did find herself on the Citadel once more, asking Shepard for access to Alliance resources in order to help her save Oriana. Shepard granted her access without many questions, and soon Miranda found herself admitting to the fact that she had once wanted to implant a control chip in her as a safeguard when she was head of the Lazarus Project. It was strange, feeling so much guilt for the things she had done; there was once a time when she didn't care who she hurt, so long as she got the job done. Rationalization and endgame results made things like guilt a nonfactor. Her time on the Normandy however, seemed to have changed that, and Miranda knew she had to come clean with the Commander, as sitting on that kind of information didn't sit right with her anymore. Shepard had a right to know, and a right to an apology.
Shepard being Shepard, however, understood the bigger picture at the time and accepted her apology without much discussion; in the end, so many things mattered more than what Miranda could have, but didn't do over a year and a half ago. With that off her chest, Miranda turned to leave, but before she could get out the door, something Shepard said stopped her in her tracks.
"She's here, you know."
Miranda knew who she was talking about without having to ask, and her breathing noticeably shallowed as she turned back around. "On the Citadel?" Miranda asked softly, this tightness settling in her gut at the information; she didn't know if she was excited by that information, or absolutely bloody terrified of it.
"She's on shore leave," Shepard told her. "We're supposed to meet for drinks in Purgatory, but I think…" She trailed off for a moment, seemingly reevaluating her stance before deciding that yes, it was a good idea, "I think you should meet her instead."
Miranda laughed at that; loud, disbelieving, maybe even a little scared. "Why, so I can get punched in the face a few dozen times? She hates me, Shepard; and for bloody good reason."
"Oh, I'm sure she'll punch you," Shepard responded with a small smirk, crossing the space between them. "And yes, probably a few dozen times at that. But I don't believe she hates you, Miranda. If she did, I doubt she would be asking me about you just as much as you ask about her."
Suddenly, Miranda's throat felt parched, and she wet her dry lips with the tip of her tongue for a moment as she looked down at the floor. "She… asks about me?" Miranda was so certain that her concern and interest was one sided that she hadn't even contemplated that; she had known that she had hurt Jack, and had assumed the other woman would be rather spiteful when it came to what she wished upon her wellbeing.
"Well, if you want to get technical, she asks me if you're 'dead yet'."
Miranda instantly deflated at those words. "That's not exactly comforting, Shepard."
"Miranda," Shepard responded, her tone indicating that she was probably being stupid for taking something like that at face value. "You and I both know that Jack isn't exactly comfortable expressing any other emotion besides anger. If she's self-conscious, she's angry. If she's sad, she's angry. If she's worried, she's angry; do you see what I'm getting at here?"
"…Yes." Because in the end, Miranda did know that better than most; it wasn't as though their relationship wasn't filled with Jack snapping in irritation over every little thing, after all. Jack could never really admit that she cared for her, at least not without acting like it was the most aggravating thing in the world. Anger was just Jack's default; it was her mask, her source of comfort, and more importantly it was the wall around her heart so that no one could see her weaknesses.
"She may try to pass it off as spite, but every time I tell her that no, you aren't dead yet, I can see the relief in her eyes."
Miranda pursed her lips, her stomach doing summersaults inside her gut. She was nervous; the prospect of seeing Jack again, it… it frightened her a little, if she were being honest. Miranda was afraid to see first-hand how badly she had hurt the other woman.
"Go talk to her."
"Shepard, I…" Miranda tried, shaking her head as she took a step backwards. "I can't."
"Miranda, we're in the middle of a war," Shepard reminded her. "There isn't a guarantee that there will be a tomorrow for us. And frankly? You've got regret and longing written all over you, and it's damn depressing to be around. So if you want something, now's the time to take it, because you might not get a second chance at it."
Miranda pursed her lips, knowing that was true. But yet even still, what would be the point of it? It was doubtful that Jack would even accept her apology, and even if she did, and by some miracle forgave her and still had feelings for her, they couldn't be in a relationship again; Miranda was still on the run, Jack still had her students, and the war was far from over. A relationship just didn't… it didn't fit anymore. But at the same time, Miranda feared that the next time she spoke to Shepard, the woman would be telling her that Jack was dead, and she couldn't—this couldn't be how they left things between them; Jack deserved an explanation for what she had done, an apology for hurting her in the way that she had. Even if it amounted to nothing in the end, maybe it would at least give them a sense of closure.
"Miranda," Shepard continued once the operative had been contemplatively silent for far too long. "Go."
Miranda took a deep breath, tried to steel her nerves, and nodded in compliance. If nothing else, she knew she had to at least try. Still, the prospect of seeing Jack again frightened her quite terribly, as she was woefully ashamed of what she had done to her. Looking her in the eyes again… it was going to be very difficult, and Miranda still wasn't certain that she could even do it.
And in the end, when finally faced with the image of Jack sitting alone at a small table in Purgatory, idly sipping her drink as she poured over a datapad, Miranda found that she wasn't as brave as she was hoping to be.
She just stood there, from a distance, and stared at the other woman, unable to gather up the courage to approach her. Jack looked… Jack looked different; she had let her hair grow out, the style rather extreme but not in an unflattering way, and it even looked like she was learning that clothes were meant to actually cover one's body. Not by much, as Jack was still showing a fair amount of skin, but she—God, to be quite honest, Miranda found the woman to be so incredibly gorgeous that she couldn't help but stare at her like some sort of crazed stalker. The new look really flattered her, and in some backwards way that actually made her feel inadequate; like she didn't have a leg to stand on here when she was coming back with the same old offer, while Jack could literally just sit there being bloody fucking beautiful and not say a damn word, and the only thing Miranda would hear is, Look what your dumb ass threw away, Cheerleader; fucking sucks to want something you can't have, doesn't it?
God, it was so juvenile, to even have that sort of thought process, as it wasn't as though Miranda felt the need to 'win' the break up by coming back being even hotter than she was before she left, but if that was the competition here, Jack was clearly winning it regardless.
Miranda's stomach was in knots, and everything she could think to say when she finally approached her was immediately thrown out as Miranda realized she had no idea how to do this. She was already horrible at relationships in general, and break ups filled with regret were apparently even worse; Miranda wasn't exactly good at guilt, as she rarely even felt it, but with Jack… with Jack things were different. They always had been, and maybe that said something as to exactly how important the other woman ended up being to her, but that didn't change the fact that she was anxious, afraid, and completely lost on how to proceed.
And so she lost what little was left of her frazzled nerve, and decided not to at all.
But just as Miranda was about to turn to leave, it turned out that apparently, if you stare at someone long enough, they're bound to notice. Their eyes connected, and as all the color drained from Jack's face, Miranda felt as though she were about to vomit from the intense bout of fear that had settled itself in the pit of her stomach.
And God, Miranda Lawson didn't run from anything; but her? Oh, her she ran from.
It wasn't because she was afraid of what Jack would do to her; she could take a punch, if not a couple dozen, and if she were being honest with herself then she would admit to deserving it. What she was afraid of was facing her again after all this time; she had thought—Miranda thought she could do this, but she just didn't know how, and the last thing she wanted to do was make things worse between them. In the end though, it seemed she wasn't going to have a choice about that, as in her haste to just hide she had barreled through the first door she came to, only to realize it wasn't a through exit; it was a bathroom.
There was a cruel sort of irony about that, as the last conversation she and Jack even had was in a bathroom.
Miranda noticeably jumped as she turned around, hearing the bathroom door be slammed open as it collided heavily with the wall. Jack looked almost crazed with fury, and she didn't even hesitate before her fist collided with Miranda's jaw, causing the woman to be knocked back a few steps before steadying herself against the wall.
Well, it wasn't as though she wasn't expecting that. At least Jack didn't charge it first with her biotics, as that could have very well broken her jaw, if not worse; in the end, maybe she didn't want to hurt her as badly as she was able, but that was just a small comfort in the midst of the extreme emotional backlash that was currently going on inside this small bathroom.
"What the fuck!" Jack screamed, reeling her arm back as she prepared to hit her again. Miranda was more prepared for it this time though, and instinctively put up her barrier in order to block it. Jack didn't seem to care though, didn't even seem to want to bother with using her biotics to dispel it, and just kept hitting it, screaming obscenities at her over and over. "You bitch; you selfish, backstabbing little cunt! You just fucking show up here like you're—fuck you, fuck you!"
"Jack, Jack!" Miranda tried desperately, keeping her barrier up as Jack continued hitting it with uncoordinated, furious attacks that didn't seem to be about hurting her, but just expressing her rage on something, anything. "Please, just let me—!" try to explain, but Jack was hearing none of it.
"I trusted you, you stupid fucking bitch; I trusted you and you fucked me!" Jack screamed, her fists starting to look reddened and raw as they repeatedly bashed against an abundance of biotic energy. "I should kill you, I should fucking kill you!"
"Jack, please," Miranda begged, the guilt and sorrow she felt inside beginning to crush her as all the hurt, all the mistrust, and all the sadness, showed behind Jack's darkened eyes as she tried desperately to cover it with anger and blame. Miranda's throat tightened and her chest compressed, tears welling in her eyes as she found she absolutely hated herself for doing this to her. "I'm—I'm sorry…"
"No, fuck you!" Jack shouted, still pounding away at her barrier. "Fuck you, don't you ever fucking apologize to me! Fuck you, fuck you…!"
She kept shouting obscenities at her, kept viciously attacking Miranda's barrier until eventually, exhaustion took its toll and she collapsed on the floor, putting her head in her hands as she struggled to find her breath. Tears were streaming down Miranda's face in lines, and as she finally allowed her barrier to come down her back slid against the wall, crumpling into an awkward position on the floor as she placed the back of her hand against her lips and tried to will herself to calm down.
"Fuck you," Jack repeated, but she wouldn't look at her and her voice sounded broken as she fisted her hand in her hair. "Fucking crying like you actually give a shit… fuck you; you're fucking nothing."
Miranda looked up then, just in time to watch Jack quickly, yet violently wipe at her cheek, and suddenly Miranda didn't know if Jack was even talking to her, or if she was talking to herself; and God, it broke her heart. "I thought… I thought it was the right thing to do," Miranda breathed, her own voice broken and hoarse. "I wanted you to have a better life, Jack, and I couldn't—I couldn't give that to you; not with the way things are right now."
"I hope you fucking choke on your bullshit sentiments, Cheerleader," Jack responded furiously, finally looking at her. Although she, unlike Miranda, had seemed to will herself to stop crying, her eyes were still reddened and bloodshot. "I don't give a shit why you did it, because that doesn't fucking change the fact that you walked out on me without saying a goddamn word! That was fucked, you're fucked, and I really hope that you regret doing it and are here to come crawling back to me, because that'll make telling you to go fuck yourself even sweeter."
"I don't… I don't know if I regret it or not," Miranda hesitantly admitted, her voice barely above a whisper as she wiped away another tear that had traced the contour of her cheek. "I know you took the job, and I know you've been doing well for yourself, and that… in that aspect, I don't regret walking away. But I never… I never meant to hurt you, Jack, and the fact that I did—"
"Fuck you," Jack snapped, shaking her head as she picked herself up off the floor. "You didn't mean to fucking hurt—is that a joke?"
Miranda had never felt so helpless in her life as she did right then. She didn't know what to do, what to even say to make it better, but perhaps the solution she was searching for didn't even exist. "I'm sorry," she breathed, knowing any reasoning she would give her would be thrown back in her face anyhow; and in the end, maybe an apology shouldn't be made up of excuses. "I know it doesn't make a difference, but you… you have to know that. What I did, please understand that it wasn't because I didn't care; it was because you were the only bloody thing in my life that I truly did care for."
Another excuse perhaps, but Jack needed to know that; she needed to know that Miranda had felt so much for her, because if she hadn't, she would have never walked away. She was so used to being selfish; for just taking things because she wanted them, and not because it'd be good for anyone else. Leaving Jack, although done perhaps in the wrong way, was probably about the least selfish thing Miranda had ever done.
"What the fuck did I just say about apologizing to me?" Jack snapped, watching Miranda push herself off the floor to at least be at her height again. She felt a wreck; she was a wreck. "I don't give a shit if you cared about me, I don't give a shit if your stupid ass fell in love with me; that doesn't change that fact that you're a shitty fucking person! So why don't you do me a favor and shove all those bullshit feelings you have for me, along with your stupid fucking apology, up that gigantic ass of yours and just fuck off. I'm not fucking interested in having you back in my life."
Miranda had known that the chances of Jack wanting her back in her life again were slim, had even known that, even if she did, right now wasn't the best time for either of them, and yet that still pierced her heart with an intensity she hadn't been expecting because, God, she missed her—she missed every bloody fucking thing about her, and now that she had seen her, the possibility of that never happening again completely devastated her. Fuck, why, why did she allow herself to fall this hard for her? She should have known better, she should have tried to stop it when this all first began, but she had been foolish, and now they were both paying the price for her idiocy.
"Jack, please don't…" Miranda tried, her voice tightening with an emotion she couldn't stop. "Please don't make that kind of decision right now. I know that you're upset with me—"
"No, screw you!" Jack shouted, practically launching herself at her until she had Miranda pressed up against the bathroom wall, her palm hitting the tile next to her head so hard it caused the woman beneath her to stiffen in defense. "Don't fucking stand there and tell me how to run my life!" she continued, practically screaming in Miranda's face. "You lost your chance, princess; you fucking had something and like the self-absorbed cunt you are, you just threw it away like it was nothing, and fuck, I really hope that it's killing you now."
"It is," Miranda breathed, voice breaking in her throat as she looked into the other woman's eyes. What was the point in denying it? Jack could probably see it written all over her face anyhow.
Jack's lips twisted into this half-smile, half-sneer as she stressed, "Good. Now listen to me very fucking carefully, Cheerleader, because I'm only going to say this once." Leaning in close, Jack placed herself not even a full inch from Miranda's face as she slowly annunciated, "I. Fucking. Hate you; and if I ever see you again, I will not hesitate to beat you to death. Are we clear?"
It was pure bravado, and Miranda knew that, but that didn't stop it from hurting her. "Jack…"
Jack slammed her open palm against the wall again, making Miranda's barrier briefly flare up before it dissipated. "I said are we fucking clear?!"
"Yes," Miranda breathed, because she knew Jack needed her to understand how upset she was. But what else had she really been expecting? This was Jack, of course she was going to punch her and scream at her and threaten her life; she couldn't talk about her feelings. Miranda could barely even talk about her feelings, but she at least was willing to try. She should have known Jack wouldn't be willing to do the same. She had hurt her, betrayed her trust, when Jack had a hard time even trusting her in the first place, trusting anyone in the first place. But Miranda had broken down those walls and Jack had let her in, and now… now everything was a mess, because she had screwed it all up.
She should have talked to her before she left; she should have had the courage to tell her that she was leaving, instead of just running away in order to try to make things easier on herself. She did the right thing, yes, but she went about it the very, very wrong way.
Some small part of her had foolishly hoped that, once this was all over, they might have a chance of picking things up where they left off. What she felt for Jack wasn't something that happened to her very often, and so it wasn't an easy thing to get over; but that was stupid, wasn't it? Why would she think that Jack would even give her a second chance after what she had done? First chances were hardly in her nature, let alone second ones.
Miranda had destroyed what they had, and maybe it was time she learned to accept that.
Jack looked at her for a long time, maybe trying to look for the acceptance in Miranda's eyes that she hadn't yet learned how to have. But in the end, saying that she understood Jack's 'terms' must have been enough for her, because she finally pushed off the wall and stepped away from her. "We're fucking done here," she told her, voice filled with anger and hurt and everything else that made Miranda's heart ache as she watched her walk away.
But before she left completely, Miranda called out to her one last time. "Jack!" The convict turned, looking furious that she would even dare to utter her name, but Miranda had to say it, she had to… she had to let her know how much she still cared, and how frightened she was for her during this war, because no matter what the other woman said, that didn't change. "Don't die, okay?"
Jack steeled her jaw, emotion flickering behind her eyes as she was no doubt reminded of the time she had said that to her, the time when they realized they meant more to one another than just sex. But Jack didn't respond with the same; in the end, her pride and anger would never allow her to, and so as she turned away to walk out the door, the only thing she said in response was a furious, "Screw you."
And it broke Miranda's heart.
TBC…