Chapter 10
Back to being a prisoner of medical science. Doesn't look that way. But Jack's an inmate once again. Just another lab rat for that fuck's sick experiments. Bet Miranda think's it's funny. Full circle for the psychotic biotic. Soon as she's back on her feet she'll make good on her old promise to filet her. No galaxy-ending bullshit to stop her now.
Jack's legs are back to being dead today. Just temporary. Before yesterday she was bombing around on crutches. Plans for outside. Today, some dumb shit yanks her half asleep out of bed into a wheelchair. She hates the chair about as much as the reason she's in it: Miranda. She sits in front of her window, brooding, not looking. There's nothing outside she wants to see.
Shepard's memorial was yesterday and Jack was barred. Fuck physical therapy. She was only making the effort so she could go. Bitch stole her chance to pay her respects, say goodbye. She'll pay. But its hard to summon the old rage. The truth is that Jack has a hard time figuring out why she opens her eyes anymore. Used to be Reapers. The kids. Shepard made her care about those things. But she's gone.
Jack's strings have been cut.
She ignores the polite knock at the door behind her. Whoever steals into the room is so quiet Jack's not immediately aware she has company. Liara's steps are silent; she joins Jack by the window. Her skin is dry; her eyes are glassy. Fuck, why do they all bother? Jack's hostile. Liara is patient. Eventually, Jack flicks her a sidelong glance, disbelieving. Liara is small, sad. Unbowed.
Liara asks Jack for a shallow meld. Jack nearly laughs her out of the room. She refuses even to try. Not getting into that bullshit. She asks Liara if she looks like a peeping tom. Liara's face is blank, then sours. Jack remembers it doesn't pay to piss off this asari. So she agrees to talk instead. For every ten words Liara speaks, Jack speaks one. Shepard was funny, strong, smart, stupid, brave. Yeah. She gets what Liara is trying to do. It's a daring kindness. She's touched. Sort of. But Jack won't accept the healing hand Liara is offering.
Jack is eager to talk about other things. But apparently she's fucking blind. Liara pours cold water on her pet topics. No, Miranda is not with Cerberus. No, you are not confined here. No, she is not experimenting on you. This is not about pity. Do you really think that? Liara is aghast. Jack, do you really not see?
Jack thinks: what's to see?
Liara is still for a long time. She stares out the window at the new buds and blossom and green growth. Her face is alive with pain. She settles on something. When she looks back at Jack, Liara's eyes are black. Jack remembers, too late, that asari melds don't rely on touch. The folds of her mind part. Then -
Jack sees herself with someone else's heart. Snapping her pistol away from Aresh's neck. Yelling into Miranda's face. Keeping the barrier up in the Collector base. Checking weapons with Legion. Dancing crazy with Shepard. Bleeding out, dying, in the pouring rain. On the operating table. Sleeping, peaceful, in the dead of night. Liara's howl at the memorial, stepping forward.
A Pandora's box of emotions fly at Jack. Anger. Acceptance. Pride. Jealousy. Devotion. Want -
No. Fuck no.
There is no remorse on Liara's face. Jack understands. She would be more likely to believe a pig could fly if she simply told her. She needs to be shown. Jack looks inside.
What's left is love.
Jack doesn't react well to an ambush. She lashes out, shoves Liara. She stumbles, falls onto the floor. Jack has never been more confused.
Liara picks herself up, turns to go. Jack's eyes are pleading; she begs for her to take it back. She cannot process this. The asari is a pillar of freezing anger. She speaks with calm clarity. Liara's last words are a brand.
"Open your eyes, Jack. You can accept her - or not. Refuse, by all means. But work out what you want. You have never been a coward. Shepard died. Not you."
Liara closes the door behind her. The Cybaen leaves Earth the same day, and Liara sets her face against the world.
Miranda was relieved that Jack obeyed her. More of her normal self was resurfacing, which was a positive development. She still lay on the couch, ice pack wedged into her boot, leg elevated and head propped with cushions. A gradual comedown from the meds was the goal from this point on, though Miranda privately doubted how feasible this would be. She didn't want to entertain the alternative. Jack caught her eye, and a gentle smile played across her features. Miranda's answering smile was automatic.
Now to deal with the real child.
Jack was a child magnet. This was a source of universal amusement to people who knew her. But it made a certain kind of sense. She was so inappropriate, so heartfelt, children loved her. Miranda's thoughts strayed to Bashir. He was four or five when they found him on Yandoa; filthy, half-starved, feral. He slept under his bed, not on it at first, curled into a tight knot. Jack had bedded right down there with him. Miranda never loved him any less; her parenting was simply more reserved. She liked to think her style retained more of the stiff upper lip. It was impossible to say that about Jack.
Miranda loped over to the dining table. She folded her feet underneath her to sit on the floor. Glyph had gone to rouse the child, who would enter the room through the door directly ahead. Miranda knew Naya would come to her last - Jack and a krogan would be considerably more interesting - but Miranda felt the pull of curiosity about the girl. Frankie had been incredibly inquisitive at her age. She reminded herself all kids were different. She ran through what Jeyda had told her to expect a last time. Jack pointed to her chest. Miranda looked down, and hastily tucked Liara's blood-smeared dog tags beneath her breastplate.
Glyph stood in the open doorway. His legs were planted close together; a wall for the child to hide behind. After a short time, a small face peered around the side. One blue fist bunched in the fabric of Glyph's trousers.
"Some people have come to see you, Naya." Glyph's voice was singsong. "Can you look out there and tell me who they are?"
The face peeped out again, taking in each figure in turn. She tugged on the bottom of Glyph's robe, cupped her hand to whisper into his ear. Glyph knelt to hear, deftly maneuvering her out from behind his legs. This fact escaped her notice. Smart move.
"You got two right. Very good. But what colour head plate does Wrex have?" Glyph tapped the top of his own head. Naya blinked, remembering.
"Red."
"And what colour does that person have?" He pointed.
"Grey."
"And what sort of person is he?"
"A krogan."
"So he must be..." Glyph nudged.
"Grunt!" Naya's face lit up. She clapped her hands together with glee.
Well done. Now, will you go and say hello to one of the humans, please? They have come such a long way."
Naya's iron grip on Glyph's clothing resumed, tighter than before. He put his hands on her shoulders, chided gently. "You have always been so brave. Now go on." He gave her a small push.
Bloody hell. Naya's resemblance to Shepard was uncanny. She had Shepard's face. And her markings were beautiful - bold stripes of colour sweeping like racing stripes along her head crests, matching Shepard's skin tone. The child was wearing a lemon yellow sleep suit, slightly too short at the ankles and wrists. Miranda was astonished when Naya walked straight past the couch, up to where she was sitting.
The child stopped just short of her and curiously - as if reaching out to test a mirage - small fingers brushed her hair. It was the gentlest touch, and Miranda leaned slightly into it, allowing Naya to continue. The girl was absorbing the texture, and colour, and quantity with intense concentration. She looked up at Glyph, who had taken care to stay within the child's reach as she crossed the room, and mouthed the word 'wow' at him with a look of absolute rapture on her face.
Long hair is evidently a novelty. Miranda couldn't help but be charmed.
"Go on, Naya," Glyph said.
"Hello, Miranda." The woman smiled at the child, who kept her hand in her hair.
"Pleased to meet you, Naya."
"Where did you come from?"
Glyph answered. "Outside." The word was tinged with foreboding, as if the trio had come from an unspeakable darkness beyond the edge of the world. For Glyph and Naya, Miranda thought, that was pretty much true.
"Did you come to see mama?" Naya's eyes were wide. They were Liara's shape, but Shepard's colour. Miranda remembered colour matching them.
"No. We came to see you. We came to see if you were real."
"Of course I'm real." Naya was confused. "You're just s'posed to be stories." She thinks this is a dream.
Naya became wrapped up in reciting what she knew about Miranda. "You really put daddy back together? In real life?" Miranda nodded. Her hair had exhausted Naya's interest. Warm fingers started to explore Miranda's eyebrows, her cheeks.
"You were daddy's friend. So was Jack. So was - Grunt." The child whispered the last with a quiver of fear. Poor Grunt. Miranda's hand came up to stroke the small of Naya's back.
"He's nothing to be scared of. Just a big softie. Did you know that your daddy is also his daddy?"
Naya fixed Miranda with a sceptical frown. Her nose crinkled. "Humans can't make krogan babies."
"Your daddy looked after Grunt just after he was born. So she became his daddy too. That makes him your big brother." At this, Naya's mouth opened into a perfect O of surprise.
"Did daddy come with you? She's never been here before."
Miranda heard hope in the girl's voice.
"No. Daddy isn't here."
Naya shrugged, turned to eye Grunt. Miranda closed her own hand over Naya's small one.
"It's okay. I'll introduce you."
After a reassuring touch from Glyph, Naya allowed Miranda to walk her over. She lifted her to sit on the kitchen island level with Grunt's chest. Grunt was sensibly trying to conceal his bulk behind the counter. Hunching over the island, the krogan looked like an ochre boulder. A nervous smile was fixed to his face.
"Hello, Grunt."
He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Hello."
Emboldened by Miranda's presence, Naya reached up to feel the loose skin hanging under his jaw, something Grunt was clearly averse to. She's got balls, I'll give her that.
"You're scratchy. Why do you have scales?" Naya asked.
Grunt was blindsided by the question.
"Because I'm a krogan. Why are you blue?"
"Because I'm asari!" The child laughed as though Grunt had asked her the most ridiculous question in the world. Naya stood on the counter, patted his head plate. The movement began softly, progressed quickly to knocking hard. The krogan held himself still with some effort.
Jack caught his discomfort. "Hey, Grunt. Back on the ship, I remember something about 'younglings beyond number'? Knew you were blowing smoke up my - um." Glyph silenced her with a glare.
"Krogan younglings are different. Harder shells." Grunt voice was thrumming with panic. "We're not mammals. She's so... small."
Miranda had both hands around Naya's waist. They almost touched in front, the child was so tiny. Grunt's terrified of breaking her. She had an idea.
"Naya, would you like to show Grunt your toys?"
Naya's eyes swerved back to her, brimming with excitement. She nodded vigorously, wriggling in Miranda's grip to be let down from the counter. Once set on the floor, she reached upward to place her hand in his claw, pulling his one-ton mass toward her room. Amused, Miranda murmured you'll be fine at his retreating figure. She wouldn't have suggested it had she not been certain.
"Do you like Garr the Battlemaster? I do. He's great. And Krum, too. I've got lots of the Captain Cosmic figures. And..."
Glyph followed in their wake. He had an odd look on his face. He reminded Miranda of a bird, one with a predator disturbing its nest.
Jack swung her legs round and sat upright. She tested her ankle on the floor. Miranda heard the sharp intake of breath from across the room. She returned to where she had been sitting alongside Jack. This time, Jack brought her hand to rest on Miranda's knee. Soft, hesitant. Miranda let it stay.
"Kid's cute. Sweet on you."
Miranda placed her hand over Jack's, lacing their fingers. Jack's skin was warm again. "Only until she gets around to you. Then it's party time."
"Not with this foot." Jack met Miranda's eyes, bashful. "Thanks for before. Taking care of me. Like always."
"No problem. Couldn't have you going into shock." Miranda nudged shoulders with Jack. "Not until we get back to the boat."
The same unsettling thought jarred both of them simultaneously. Something clicked into place.
Glyph let us in. But he has no intention of letting us out.
A/N: A big thank you to everyone who has read this far. Thanks for following the story, and for those of you leaving reviews and messages - it's really appreciated.
- Caracal