Upon returning to the shuttle, Thane offered to pilot for the return trip to the Normandy, as Miranda was understandably distracted and still on the raw edge of emotions. Not wishing to be stuck alone in the rear bay with her, Jack jumped into the co-pilot seat, leaving Shepard and Miranda in the back, a decision she quickly regretted when she saw them sitting side by side comfortably and having a private conversation. Fuuuuck, that's just great. Tits 'n Ass Lawson is free to apply her skills now.
In truth, Shepard had never shown a romantic interest in Miranda that she knew of, but the Cerberus operative had been oddly humanized in her eyes on this day, and perhaps, in Shepard's eyes as well. Jack turned her head slightly to the side and strained to listen in.
Sitting in nearly identical postures, the two were leaning forward with elbows on knees. Miranda looked as if she was hoping to gain some privacy via her curtain of long, jet-black hair around her face - and Shepard leaned forward with her so he could speak quietly and still be heard.
"You know, I've never seen you look this happy. Or happy at all, come to think of it. You should try it more often, it looks good on you." Everything looked good on her, of course. His eyes drifted over the generous swell of her breasts under her tight bodysuit, her trim and narrow waist, flaring out to generous hips and the wide curve of her spectacular ass...shut up, shut up, why am I like this?
Miranda wiped her eyes with her gloved hands and sniffed loudly, but also chuckled quietly. "I feel like a proper mess, but thank you, Commander. As charming as your reputation has long suggested."
"Not always, no. I said some very tough things to you this morning. Very tough. I regret some of those things." Shepard felt his face fall, and a pit in his stomach formed. You owe her your life. He knew she had reassembled him bit by bit for two years, every day, and every waking moment he had been her responsibility.
All with the Illusive Man watching over her shoulder, as well as her huge team of people with a complete professional and career investment - all of this would have weighed on her shoulders. The pressure must have been crushing, and his thoughts went back to the chasing of Saren and the discovery of the existence of Sovereign. In those times, he had felt the future of his galaxy resting on his shoulders. That sensation had never entirely left.
She shook her head, her charcoal tresses waving as she did so. Shepard pictured momentarily her kneeling between his legs, her head moving up and down on him, his hands fisted in that gloriously long, shiny, infinitely black hair as her lips and tongue...Jesus Christ what?
"Shepard, don't apologize for that. I'd say you were spot-on about most of it. I'm guilty of thinking myself infallible. At Cerberus, there's only been success for me. I was challenged, but also given support and resources I've never had before. Put into position to succeed and rewarded with responsibility. I started to think I was not just special, but special. Then...you. My crowning achievement jumped up, grabbed a suit of armor and a handgun, and went right to work. It was a home run for me, and it went to my head. I thought I was infallible. I stepped onto the Normandy thinking I was the most important thing there and you were just a figurehead that I was going to steer around. Which is...bloody ridiculous, and ignorant."
Miranda spent a long, silent minute looking at her hands, picking at her gloves as she looked lost in thought. When she resumed speaking, it was at half her previous volume, as if she was giving confessional.
"Do you know what I was thinking for all of those two years? That it was a waste of time. That you were just a soldier like any other. But the Illusive Man gave me a task, and damn everyone if I wasn't going to succeed at it. I didn't believe in you at all. Now, look at us. It's been a single month, and you have a group of completely incompatible specialists fighting together as a team - and we gave the Collectors their first bloody nose, perhaps ever. Both without your XO doing her damn job."
Shepard's eyes went far away, looking through the opposite wall of the shuttle. Grunt's corpse, his armor broken open and hollowed out from being partially disintegrated, the remaining flesh cooked and hissing...he could have been the future of his race, a new era for an entire species. But not now, because you let him get killed. Failure, you're a fucking failure. You killed a piece of the future, you incompetent stupid shit.
He could feel his eyes sting with tears, and the surprise of it brought him back to the now, and he physically shook his head to clear it, and wiped his face with his good hand. Miranda was still talking...Shepard frowned, trying to measure how long he had just completely lost focus yet again.
"...I needed this, what you said. I needed to really...blow it. I was reaching a point where I was holding on to my answers, and ignoring the questions. A scientist can't do that, and neither can your executive officer. Now I can look in the mirror and reset myself a little, focus on the evidence and the data, make decisions, then be prepared to make allowances for mistakes and new angles..."
"I didn't say you had to turn into Mordin," he managed, massaging the bridge of his nose and forcing himself to listen carefully. He pictured Miranda suddenly prattling on like the excited Salarian did and barely stifled a giggle, again surprising himself. I feel drunk, except that's hardly possible anymore...right? Even the sensation of being worried about this fled away quickly, unable to hold onto a thought to completion.
Now she did laugh. "One could do worse, I suppose. He's properly brilliant, and I don't just mean by human standards. I don't know how he can stand to be in his own head, doing twelve things at once all the time. I've engaged him in some technical biochemistry discussions, and I can say that, without bragging, I can stay in it with him. However, I'm also aware I only have one-quarter of his attention and he's mentally doing five other things at a high level. I'd be jealous if it didn't sound like utter madness."
The N7 commando furrowed his brows and considered that. The inside of this UT-47 Kodiak shuttle bay is about 4.4 by 3.6 by 2.2 meters, which would give it a volume of about 34.85 cubic meters. I've been avoiding communicating with David Anderson, who was like a surrogate father to me, to protect him from political exposure to a compromised Cerberus traitor. Does he know that or is he just hurt right now? I hate the music that was preloaded into the sound system in my cabin. What kind of fish should I get for the tank? Would Thessian Sunfish tell Jack that I still love Liara? Except I can't do that. Liara has moved on without me and has new responsibilities, I needed to let go - I'm the one out of step with time, not her. She did the right thing. She mourned, she healed, she lived. I need to respect that.
Miranda leaned back now, against the shuttle wall, and blew out a calming breath. Shepard leaned back with her, matching her posture and blinking his eyes rapidly as if he had just caught himself falling asleep. "Shepard, thank you. For Oriana. And I don't mean just helping, because you do that, you help anyone you can. For after that. You...I mean, I was going to walk away from her, and then what? I would have waited for the right time, the perfect time, to meet her someday, and that may never have happened. What you said to me was...so perfect."
She peered at him sideways, and met his eyes, her ice-blue ones as warm as they could physically manage. "You are a most unusual soldier, Shepard. You've been enormously diplomatic and shown tremendous empathy all your life, and I would know - I studied you intently for those two years, trying to understand the man I was putting back together."
My God, she has gorgeous eyes. Shepard shifted uncomfortably, embarrassed by the praise and frank analysis - which didn't escape her notice. He also was processing an imagined visual montage of himself being grown, gram by gram, from a shriveled hunk of remains under her watchful eye. She'd know every inch of his body better then he himself did. That's unsettling. Or interesting. No. Unsettling.
She shook her head again, and offered a half-smile, looking surprised at herself. "I'm being overly familiar. My emotions are a little out of control right now, it's been a day of tremendous lows and highs for me."
Shepard gave her a half-grin and reached for a joke he'd thought of earlier, "Oriana is a beautiful young woman. I guess you used to be quite pretty, also." Images of young Miranda, using a placeholder of the recent view of Oriana, being demeaned and shrieked at by an unseen father, played through his mind. That same look on her face as from today, when it was me screaming at her. The guilt that washed over him was chilling, and his posture slumped.
Miranda rolled her eyes dramatically, a hint of physical humor she didn't show often. "Bastard. She's not identical, I said. More like a fraternal twin, I suppose, and she's different in many ways. She's extremely intelligent, of course..."
"Oh, of course." She ignored him. What's it like to have a sibling? If I had a sister, would she be like me in some ways? What would a female version of me be like...would she be sitting here right now in N7 armor, back from the dead, thinking of what it would be like to be a man? I'm thinking in circles. Am I sick? Is this what crazy feels like?
"...she plays tennis, and the violin, and she made jokes - with a really clever one about a composition by Hummel - in the short time I was talking to her. Here we were, packing up her things to move her into a new life with only hours of warning, and she was being humorous. Nothing like me at all in that regard." Miranda's eyes were sparkling with pride now.
"I love jokes about Hummel," Shepard replied absently, starting to rub his temples with his armored hands, until his left one protested sharply. Broken knuckle, right.
Miranda arched a perfectly shaped brow at him. "Honestly, I'm surprised you're able to use a fork and knife properly, so I won't pretend that you might be serious."
In the front of the shuttle, Jack seethed in jealous hatred. Fucking buddies now. Making jokes and...and teasing each other. Bitch. She turned back to the front and caught Thane looking at her again, expressionless as was typical for him, and his rough, buzzing voice was low.
"Do not be fooled into taking this personally, Jack. Shepard seeks to make an emotional connection with everyone on his crew. It's his way, and he knows no other. He is not displaying preference."
"What? I don't give a shit what he does. Why would I care?" Her eyes narrowed as if daring him to say something to push the issue.
"As you wish."
"Like he talks to you like that, gets all in your shit."
Thane was silent for several long seconds, while Jack's expression became increasingly uncertain. He blinked again, and tilted his head slightly.
"He..." A pause. "Yes. I spoke of things I did not expect to be forthcoming about. His reputation as a battlefield destroyer, empathic diplomat, and merciful peace-maker are all richly deserved. An unusual soldier. An unusual man."
Jack leaned back in her chair, folded her arms, and huffed in frustration. "He's a fucking weirdo is what he is."
Thane's mouth was touched by a ghost of a smile. "Yes."
"Captain Kirrahe!" The last thing she would have expected was a salarian who wasn't even a member of Systems Alliance on a secure channel to The Villa, but if she had to pick one salarian to be surprised by, it would be this one. "I didn't know what to expect, but this is a pleasant surprise, sir."
Kirrahe's face crinkled into a smile, clearly pleased with the warm reception. "Chief Williams, good to see you, also. It's been a long time." His face instantly twitched as if he regretted his words, as the last time they had seen each other was at Shepard's funeral. As a gesture to Shepard's species-bridging inclinations, his pallbearers had been notable soldiers of each of the council races. Kirrahe had been granted the unquestioned honor of being the representative of his entire race, for bearing the empty coffin of the pride of humanity.
Ashley nodded in understanding. "Under better circumstances, this time."
The STG officer rubbed the back of his neck with his long-fingered hand, hesitant in his response. "Yes, yes. Not by much, perhaps."
At those words, Ashley's warm smile faded.
Miranda found stepping out into the Normandy's docking bay to be even more of a relief than usual. She was eager to return her office in order to monitor progress on the contracted upgrades they had arranged for, during their extended stay in the orbit of Illium.
Briefly pausing, Miranda endured Kelly's traditional post-combat mission greeting - usually involving a hug when possible - that she always did for incoming shuttles. The redhead seemed generally back to her old self, evidently having had a good nap and a shower.
Extracting herself and smiling politely, the Cerberus operative had not even reached the elevator when, via her omni-tool, she had already arranged a meeting between herself, Joker, Garrus, Kenneth Donnelly, and Gabby Daniels. The doors opened and she stepped inside, followed by Shepard. Jack remaining behind, pretending to fiddle with her shotgun to look busy. Thane was still being detained by Chambers - too polite to resist - and Jack feigned some sort of issue with her shotgun that needed her attention. The convict always found a reason to skip elevator rides with the Normandy XO.
Shepard leaned against the wall of the lift as if weary, his head back and his eyes closed. "Miranda, after your..."
Miranda waited, then looked at him as the pause lengthened for an unnatural amount of time. Her brow furrowed as she filled in for him, "Engineering meeting, Commander?"
Shepard nodded, not opening his eyes, his helmet tucked under his right arm. "Right. My cabin for a situation update. After. With the results."
"Yes, Commander." Miranda considered that the commander must be exceedingly tired, as he was acting quite oddly.
"Welcome back, Commander."
He shut his eyes and leaned back against his own door that had just closed behind him. "Thanks, EDI. No disturbances...for thirty minutes."
"Of course. Logging out."
A slow removal of battered armor, mostly one-handed, and he was taking a cool and careful shower. Leaning his good hand against the wall, he held his head under the water, watching the water swirl into the drain below him, his mind racing through ideas and memories, sounds and tastes, and the echoes of failures and successes, never pausing to take hold, and wishing he could make it all stop. He slapped the temperature lever, setting it to cold, and gritted his teeth as the icy water poured over him.
Jack took a deep breath to steady her nerves and jabbed her finger on the entry sensor outside of The Loft, as some of Shepard's crew called his cabin. Better just to get this shit over with. The panel flashed red but neither buzzed denial or chimed acknowledgement.
"What the f...hey, computer...is this thing fucked or something?"
"Hello, Miss Jack. I do not think the panel is experiencing the past tense of having engaged in sexual activity, however I can check the logs for the last 10 standard days to ensure accurac..."
"For fuck's sake, I mean is it broken?" I just goddamn well know this computer is fucking with me. Which means it might be awake or whatever the fuck you call it. And that is just awesome because if we piss it off it might airlock us while humming fucking circus music, if it goes all the way 100% batshit murderous crazy.
"Negative, it is working as intended. Commander Shepard requested a specific time of privacy from interruption, which I will not override unless a ship-wide emergency takes place. That has not occurred, and the duration has not expired."
The biotic put her hands on her hips, and took a deep, hopefully calming breath. "And how long is that?"
"Commander Shepard requested a duration of thirty minutes."
"I mean, how much time is left?" Jesus Christ.
"Two minutes and fourteen seconds."
"So I guess I'll just stand here like a fucking moron then."
"You may stand in your current position by whichever manner you choose, Miss Jack."
Argh.
"Now?"
"Four more seconds, Miss Jack. Thank you for your patience."
The biotic closed her eyes, took a deep breath yet again, and reminded herself that blowing a hole through the side of the ship would be a poor decision and that the fucking AI would likely not even feel it. She jabbed the panel again, and it chirped and turned green. To her surprise, the door slid open immediately, meaning Shepard had, at some point, granted her residency access. What the fuck, when did he do that...and why?
Suspicious, she carefully stepped in, taking care to not make excessive noise with her boots. Her eyes were drawn to the far end of the - unexpectedly large - captain's loft, where Shepard stood. Wearing only black underwear and dripping with water, he was next to his bed and facing away from her. Wet footprints led away from him to the shower, and halfway in between lay a towel. His posture was slightly leaned forward, and with his arms drawn in tightly, as if he was holding his face. She stepped closer until she was merely feet behind him.
"Shepard?". Drops of water fell down his broad back; muscled, smooth, unscarred, perfect. She hesitantly reached out and her fingers grazed the back of one shoulder...he was cold, extremely cold.
"Shep?"
Stepping closer, she placed one hand on top of his left shoulder, and gave him a light shake. He finally reacted; giving a violent shiver, and turned his head enough to look at the inked fingers touching him.
"Jack?"
"Yeah. You, uh...ok?"
He didn't respond. She squeezed his shoulder again, and he twitched as if jarred awake. With a hesitant step forward, he sat heavily on the bed, before answering between clenched teeth.
"No."
His eyes rolled back, and he fell limply to his side.
"With all due respect, Captain. That is bullshit. This is...unthinkable. He personally made a decision to save the Council, after they ignored him repeatedly and came damn close to calling him a liar...by spending the lives of human soldie..."
Kirrahe held up his hands in surrender, "Chief..I know. I know. And it may be hard to believe, but the Council knows, as well. They often can't express what they do and don't know, because everything they do is politically accountable and has to be defended. Valern and I had, hmm, 'heated discussions'. In short, I came around to what they were onto. They are..concerned that Shepard is already, or may become, fully compromised by Cerberus. Currently, he has Spectre status, and that certainly was not announced publicly. He met with the Council about one month ago, and they concluded he has a certain kind of freedom right now. He can operate in the Terminus system without official complications. Free of the 'red tape' and media frenzy if he were under Alliance or Council command."
"On the other hand, his free reign right now is troublesome...so there has to be a contingency plan. Normally, the only way you bring in a rogue Spectre is with another Spectre, much like Shepard himself took down Saren. There are no Spectres in existence that have a personal relationship with him. So there were concerns that such an action would lead to many deaths, given what appears to be solid Cerberus backing and a competent team."
"So they'll send his friends and hope he comes quietly", Ashley butted in.
Kirrahe nodded reluctantly. "Yes. It is distasteful to play on his loyalties. However, the alternative is worse. Would you rather they send someone else, I had to ask myself? Regardless, such a decision has not been made, it's merely a contingency plan. This is a joint STG and Alliance operation that is deeply buried, and your recent N1 qualification makes you eligible - as well as your friendship with Shepard. I assume...you are still on good terms? I understand you met him on Horizon."
Ashley folded her arms across her chest defensively and rocked back a step, looking away. "I...said some things. I didn't know he was alive until I ran right into him, I wasn't prepared emotionally. It was tough. Yeah, I said some things. Pretty sure he left there with some hurt feelings, but...yeah. I know if it came down to it, we're friends." He's still not written me back.
"Good. Him and I should be on good terms as well, after the events of Vir..." Kirrahe stopped himself as Ashley's eyes came back up to him. "Yes, well. Let's not speak of that. A terrible day for all involved. But I feel he thinks well of me, and I him. I'm inviting you to join me in this, Chief. We have a small team from both our races, and a converted private vessel. We'll shadow the movements of his ship as best possible to be available on short notice. If they are in grave need of help, we may assist. I insisted on this as a condition of agreeing to this entire unpleasant business. We're not going to go all that way, just to sit by as..."
Ashley's stomach twisted as a memory leapt to the forefront. "As I watch another Normandy burn."