Jack rarely leaves her hole to climb the stairs to main engineering but there's a new member onboard. Jack's not the curious type, she's seen it all but what the hell. The quarian has Shepard fucking giddy. Which is kinda creepy. Jack doesn't see what the big deal is about one quarian. Don't they fall apart when you touch them? Donnelly said this one helped defeat Saren but how can you tell? Not like you can see their faces.
"Is there something you want, Jack?" Tali doesn't turn away from the station she's working at, her six fingers moving dexterously over several buttons on the console. "I do have eyes," Tali tells her dryly. "I can tell when you're staring."
"Just scoping out the new recruit."
"You're the new recruit," Tali says.
Donnelly and Gabby giggle. They immediately stop when Jack glowers at them. Shepard's pet thinks she's special because she helped defeat Saren. Big fucking deal. If Tali is so fucking special then they wouldn't need the biotic-badass, would they? No point in arguing with her. "What do you know about me?"
"I know enough."
Like what? She doesn't ask. It's possible that Shepard likes to run her fucking mouth. It must be hard to lick Tali's asshole (do they have those?) with that suit of hers. "Then you know enough to stay out of my way."
"You're in my space."
Jack wonders how pissed Shepard would be if she crushed her fucking bucket head in. Great. Just what the Normandy needs. Another bitch with an attitude problem. They've already got two of those; there's no room for a third. "I'm outta here," she says and takes off. Fuck. She shouldn't bother talking to the crew members. All they do is piss her off and she doesn't know how to deal with those feelings if killing is off the table. Taking it in her youth, killing in her later youth. That's always been her way of solving things. Leave the mopey-talking shit to Kelly.
Jack exits main engineering to the cargo deck corridor. Her stomach's growling. She can't remember how long it's been since she's eaten. Sometimes she forgets that someone won't hand it to her. She's used to getting food through slots on doors, through cafeteria lines, wrists and ankles shackled and chained. The Mess Sergeant Gardner cooks food that makes her insides want to curl up and die but she's had worse. Much worse.
Jack stops in front of the panel windows to look down at the hangar where the shuttle is. Moments later she notices Miranda a few feet away from her, her eyes focused on the Kodiak shuttle.
Lately, Miranda looks like a swarm of bugs crawled up her ass. It's not much different than usual but there is a difference. Not that Jack cares. Whatever or whoever is pissing Miranda off, more power to them. Not her problem. She's here for Shepard, lie, she's here for herself, to get the intel she needs. Logasiri was a bust but hopefully the next thing will pan out. It's a work in progress but she's narrowing down her search. Soon she'll be able to find that fucked up Teltin facility and once she does she can—she can do something to make it stop. Not sure yet what it will be but she's got time to figure it out. Blowing it out of the galaxy is as good an option as any and she's good at making shit disappear.
Miranda looks at her. She doesn't tsk but the look is as good of an indication. "Is Shepard in there?"
Go look, bitch. She's not her messenger. "Don't know where Shepard is." Jack goes to the elevator and summons it. "Don't care." The elevator button blinks red at her. Someone else is using it. "The quarian's a pain in the ass."
"So are you. Fortunately you both have your uses." Miranda grudgingly pushes away from the spotless windows, giving the shuttle one last longing look. She leans coolly against the wall beside the elevator and folds her arms. "Shepard's relaxed some since Tali'Zorah came onboard. It looks like we'll just have to deal with her attitude problem."
So Tali's giving Miranda shit too. Well. Maybe Jack can come around to liking her after all. The enemy of her enemy isn't her friend, she doesn't have any of those, but she can put off kicking the shit out of her. "Is the Cheerleader upset that Tali isn't kissing her ass?" She chuckles. "Poor baby."
"I couldn't care less what people think of me as long as they do their job." Her voice is hard, composed. Then her chin dips slightly and she looks in the opposite direction, towards the port cargo door. Jack can't see her face. "I only wish that Shepard…"
The elevator dings cheerfully. Kasumi steps aside to let Jack in. Miranda follows. Jack glances at the Cerberus officer. Miranda's expression is muddled, infused with a hint of anxious emotion. Then it's gone and she's back to being unreadable. "What's your problem?" Jack asks.
They're not friends. They never talk. They've fought together and fucked. Jack is good at both of those things. You don't need to give a damn to do either. Far as she's concerned, there's nothing to talk about. There never is. Miranda isn't the first woman she's slept with and she sure as hell isn't going to be the last. It's not as if she'd been planning to sleep that night; it's not as if she'd done any of the fucking.
Miranda had fucked her.
The thought doesn't sit well with Jack. She wonders if the sick feeling growing in her stomach has anything to do with hunger at all. She grits her jaw.
"Mind your own business, Jack."
"Yep." Fuck her. Whatever bugs crawled up her ass can stay there and die. Jack shoves her hands into her pants pockets. The engineers are always stroking themselves about what a great piece of work the Normandy is but for a ship that can make the distance warps in next to no time, it sure has a slow fucking elevator.
"It's a good thing we aren't required to be friends." Kasumi says. Miranda and Jack turn to glare at the hooded thief. Kasumi is always smiling, always friendly. If she weren't a thief Jack wouldn't trust her at all. "Otherwise this would be really awkward." They both turn back to the elevator doors, shifting the weight in their legs. Kasumi continues and Jack wonders why the fuck she thinks they care about her commentary. "The elevator on the Normandy is really slow. Now I know why I never take it."
"Maybe you shouldn't," Miranda says testily.
They arrive at the third level. Kasumi's off the elevator before Jack notices. Jack can only remember seeing Kasumi a handful of times since she got on the Normandy. Maybe Kasumi hates spending time with people as much as Jack does but she doubts it. Jack's walking behind Miranda towards the mess hall when Miranda rounds sharply on her. "Are you following me?"
This bitch. Something's up. Miranda's not usually so on edge. Too cool to give a shit or whatever. "Because you have such a great ass?" Jack asks. The Normandy really needs to dock more often so the crew can get some fucking poontang and stop acting like they're in heat all the time. Jack sees and hears how Donnelly and some of the other Cerberus crew stare and talk about Miranda's ass and other so-called assets. Her clothes are so goddamn tight it leaves nothing to the imagination, maybe because no one would ever bother. "Get the fuck over yourself. There's food here and I'm hungry so get out of my way before I decide to eat you instead."
Miranda smirks.
An alien flush of embarrassment hits Jack. It is surprising and dizzying. She fights it, forces it into the more familiar rage. It slides into her, natural, like a needle in a vein, like so many of her early years, like so many of her adult years. She goes lightheaded and warm. Jack jerks forward, a balled fist ready to go but she doesn't swing. Miranda doesn't budge. She lifts her chin ever slightly. Any insecurity that Jack saw minutes ago is gone, maybe made up entirely. Miranda's eyes are icy. Jack drops her arm to her side; her fingers unfurl. "Screw this. You're not worth my time."
"You look awful. No change there." Miranda says in a bored way. "Go eat. Shepard's taking her time building a crew, to the point of putting other pressing matters on the backburner. At this rate the Collectors will attack and things will be left…unfinished. We all need to be at our best should that occur. There won't be time for do-overs. There won't be time for a lot, it seems."
Miranda retreats to her office. Jack's gaze follows after her. If Jack didn't know any better she'd think the bitch had feelings and that Shepard was in some way cheerfully stomping all over them. Good for her.
Damn Shepard.
The Commander is good at what she does. That can't be questioned. It took time for Miranda to admit that the Illusive Man had been right in not allowing her to implant Shepard with a chip. The Commander is doing what she's supposed to be doing: building a team, readying for the Collectors but damn it, she wishes Shepard would make time to go to Illium. She has to get to Oriana. She has to keep her safe. If she fails in doing that then…
No. She won't fail. She will get to Oriana. She will keep her safe. She's protected her from their tyrant of a 'father' for eighteen years. She won't abandon her now. She can't. The only thing crueler than being raised by the man would be to allow her the opportunity of a normal life and then let it be ripped from her. Oriana will not be made to live the life their father would impose on her. Miranda escaped. Whatever small mercies he had allowed her, he would correct with Oriana. She can't imagine how terrible an existence she would be forced to lead. No friends, no social life, always at his whims, only existing for perfection, only existing to be better, to be stronger, to be smarter, but always failing, never being good enough. Oriana wouldn't be a person; she'd be a legacy, a project, an experiment victim.
Miranda thinks of her own past and then Jack flickers into her mind. She buries both. No. It isn't the same. But it isn't any damned better, either.
She stews in her office. The Illusive Man has denied her leave to see to the matter herself. She spent two damned years bringing Shepard back to life. She'd never say that Shepard owes her (even if she does). It's stupid to think that it means something, to expect anything from Shepard; Shepard is doing exactly what she was brought back to do. Miranda's request interferes with the mission; she knows that. All of Miranda's life she's had to work for her goals, had to work harder still to prove that she's worthy of the gifts that she was given. She's only ever had herself to rely on. Nothing changes. That won't, anyway. That's fine. She isn't the kind to rely on others, she's never needed to, really. At worst, she's made alliances and established mutually beneficial working relationships.
She rakes a hand through her hair. She will not pace. She sits in front of her computer terminal and writes another message to Lanteaia.
Keep an eye on the matter and keep me updated. I wish I could be there sooner but I can't. There's business that needs attending to. In the meantime I'll trust you to keep her safe and out of my father's hands. I'll let you know as soon as we've set course for Illium.
She sends the message and she waits. Goddamn it, Shepard.
Miranda spends the next few hours going over the information that she knows, she wants to have every angle covered, any problematic scenario that could creep up handled before it can manifest. If her father's agents are involved that will involve some subterfuge, maybe a gun. It isn't what she'd prefer. She doesn't resort to violence if she doesn't have to but Oriana is all that matters now. Her father won't give up Oriana without a fight. If nothing, the capital investment is enough to make him want to reclaim her.
Cerberus is just waiting for Miranda's go ahead before they can proceed with the move. Miranda wishes she could trust them to do the job on their own but she doesn't. It needs to be her, preferably with Shepard at her side. Her father is too good. It's easy to buy people. Loyalty, good faith—all of that is much harder.
"Damn it," she stands suddenly, frustratingly slamming a hand on her desk.
Shepard walks in at the same time. She has an amused and condescending smile on her face. "There's the angry face I wanted to see. I didn't know you could make expressions, Miranda."
Miranda doesn't want to hear it. Some may find Shepard's cockiness charming but she isn't one of those people. "What do you want, Shepard? I'm busy."
"Is that how you show respect to your commanding officer?" Shepard swaggers into the room and rests her hands on the edge of Miranda's desk. Her eyes have taken a red tinge to them. "We've got some free time. If you're still interested in saving that sister of yours we can set course for Illium right now."
Miranda's cautious. The Commander is known to be disingenuous when she's after something. "You're sure?"
Shepard nods. "Just say the word. I've already spoken with Joker. Anyway," Shepard continues, "there are two crew members on Illium. We'll take care of your business first but we might as well kill three birds with one stone."
The aggravation that had welled in Miranda, making her uneasy and at a loss, slips away from her. It doesn't matter the reason, as long as they're going to Illium. She's not going to get trapped in the semantics like others would. No matter the danger that still awaits, she is relieved that they can finally begin to make preparations. "Set course. I'll notify the proper parties," she says sliding back into her desk chair and pulling up numerous windows on her computer terminals. Shepard is withdrawing when Miranda looks up to her. "This means a lot, Commander. I won't forget it."
Illium: the rich assholes' version of Omega. It's shiny and bright, flashy and clean on the outside but the crooks here are worse than anyone on that asteroid. Omega doesn't give you the option of pawning shit off on other people. You want something, you gotta spill blood with your own hands. And when it comes to wanting, it's usually about creds. Gotta take lives to make money. People have issues with that in the beginning until they get used to a certain lifestyle, then all bets are off. Some people kill with a bullet or a knife. That's honest. The people on Ilium do it with contracts and a pen, with fucking fine print. The pussies' way but meaner. A bullet can take your life in a split second; a fucking contract kills you slow like a cancer, for years, the rest of your life, even. Jack fucking hates Illium. Miranda admires its architecture and the strides the Asari and planet have made in a short amount of time. Miranda needs to get her fucking priorities straight but hey; Jack's a killer so she doesn't have much room to talk.
They're heading over to the Eternity bar which is good. She can use a drink. Miranda's ready to meet with whoever the fuck her contact is and Jack can check out then. No rush. Jack's stepped over to a railing, admiring the view; she may hate it but it's easy on the eyes. Jack turns her head to see when she hears Miranda's accented voice go slightly louder than is her custom. Miranda is standing in front of Shepard. Looks like there's been a disagreement. Miranda is obviously irritated. Jack perks. Miranda moves away from the crowd and Shepard reluctantly follows. Jack goes to them. If Shepard's going to piss Miranda off, she doesn't want to miss a minute of it.
Miranda is shaking her head. "It wasn't easy asking for your help on this. This is important to me and you bring her," she jabs her chin in Jack's direction, "along? Is this some kind of a joke to you?"
"Have you forgotten I'm doing you a favor? My mission, my squad. You should be glad I'm taking the time to do this." Shepard lifts an arm dismissively at Miranda before picking up on the fact that Miranda is near livid. She lays on her asshole's brand of charm. "Relax, Miranda. Isn't Jack the kind of crazy bitch you want by your side when dealing with the people threatening your sister?"
Sister? Miranda has family? Must be nice. Doesn't matter. "Takes a crazy bitch to know a crazy bitch, Shepard."
Shepard is exasperated. "Shut it, Jack."
Miranda grimaces. "This operation is delicate and she's anything but." She takes a slow breath and walks to the railings to look over Illium, to think it over. "But…maybe you have a point. Fine. But I'm in charge," she looks pointedly at Jack, "you follow my orders. There isn't going to be a repeat of Logasiri."
Jack shrugs. "I'm along for the high. Just tell me who to kill."
Miranda's eyes skirt to Jack, linger, before she straightens and turns to Shepard. "Let's just get going. We can't afford to waste any more time; Oriana's in danger. I'm not going to let anything happen to her."
The rest of the walk to Eternity is fast. Jack wouldn't mind browsing some of the shops but Miranda isn't having it and Shepard is being surprisingly hard assed. Whatever. She gets a drink from the bartender, a matriarch that Jack wouldn't mind partying with, eavesdrops on a conversation with a turian who clearly wants to take it to the next level with his quarian friend and watches an asari strip for a bachelor party. Not bad for a couple of minutes in a bar, but fairly routine and downright boring compared to some of the other shit she's seen in life. Eventually the boredom gets to her and she meanders her way to where Miranda and Shepard are meeting with Lanteia. Jack hangs out against the door and listens to the situation. Doesn't really know what's going on but no one gives a shit about how smart she is. She's just along to kill. Suits her fine. She doesn't want to get involved in people's problems anyway.
But she can't help but think. Whoever this Niket is, it's someone Miranda trusts. Jack can smell a set-up from a mile away. From the way Shepard questions Miranda, she can too. But the cheerleader is insistent about whoever the guy is. Gives him full access to her dear sister's itinerary. Stupid move. The three of them head to the car; Miranda's grateful to have Shepard as backup. Jack doesn't blame her. There's no crazier bitch she'd rather have at her side during a fight. Hell, Shepard could probably give her tips on killing.
"Are you really sure about Niket?" Jack asks as they walk. "You can buy anyone for the right amount of creds."
Miranda gives a few solid shakes of her head. "Not Niket. He's better than that. Maybe you don't have anyone you can rely on and I can't say that I've ever trusted many myself but I trust him. He hasn't been compromised."
"Just keep your trigger finger ready," Jack says and slides into the backseat of the car. Miranda and Shepard climb into the front. The night lights of Illium shine on the rearview mirror and Jack can see the concern that creeps into Miranda's features. She doesn't know why Miranda's worried. She's got Shepard and her along for their little adventure. Whoever's stupid enough to fuck with them is going to die and that's that.
What she doesn't get is this: how can someone as smart as the cheerleader not see when she's been stabbed in the back? She never figured Miranda for the trusting type.
Something isn't right. Miranda knows it but doesn't want to believe it. The thought nags her as they navigate through the various cargo bays fighting waves of mercenaries. First things first: stay alive and get to Oriana. There isn't any time to question herself or Niket but Shepard is asking questions, has been throughout the entire mission. It's one thing for Jack to contradict her but she can't afford for the Commander to have doubts.
There isn't much time for explanations but they can manage a few minutes in the first elevator they get to. It isn't how she'd choose to go about it but now isn't the time for her vanity. This is about Oriana and as difficult as it is to explain her sister or her own mired past there is no other way. She needs everyone on board for this.
She takes a breath. "Shepard…I think I owe you an explanation. Oriana is my twin, genetically. But my father…grew her when I was a teenager." The words, spoken aloud, sound more horrific than they actually are. Or maybe they're appropriately horrific. "She was meant to replace me. I couldn't let my father do to her what he did to me. So I rescued her."
"'Rescued her?'" Jack says dryly. "So what exactly is the difference between what you've done and I've done? The credits in our bank accounts?"
"I didn't do it for money, for one," Miranda retorts.
Shepard looks to Jack but decides she isn't worth responding to. "I can understand choosing to go your own way," Shepard says to Miranda who glares at the numbers on the elevator. Shepard doesn't understand a damned thing. "but you stole a young child from her father."
"You were a Cerberus bitch from the beginning," Jack rests into the elevator wall looking relaxed and arrogant. Her arms are crossed, her head tilted back. "Kidnapping's pretty low-brow. Couldn't afford to buy Daddy off like you could everyone else for your fucked up Cerberus experiments? Poor little rich girl."
Miranda snaps at her. "If you knew my father you would understand." She won't have this conversation with Jack. Damn it, Shepard, why did you have to bring her? This isn't anything Miranda would ever willingly reveal. To have to do so on an elevator while they try to rescue the only thing that has ever mattered to her… It's almost too much. "I wasn't the first one he made. I was only the first one he kept." If she hadn't left, would she be alive now? Would Oriana? Would they both have been replaced? "I was brought up with no friends, pushed to meet impossible demands. I wasn't a daughter to him, I was…" What had she been…? A project? A trophy? Not family. Not really. She had been data. Genes. Clay to be molded. Had he loved her? Is there anything to her, anything of her own that he cared for? Or was it all defect? She doesn't know. "I don't know what I was. Oriana has had a normal life. I made the right decision."
They have to understand that. Jack has no witty comeback. They exit the elevator and wade through another area of enemies and mechs. They not only have to worry about cargo dropping on top of them but explosive crates as well. Every shot takes too long, every enemy hurled and defeated slows them. Why can't this go any faster? Miranda won't be reckless. She can't afford to make mistakes, not ever, but especially not now. What she hears over the lines of radio communication isn't encouraging. If Niket sold her out… No. He couldn't have. Shepard has more questions about him and Miranda's forced to go through more explanations. She can hear herself getting more defensive. The possibility that the only man she has trusted, the only one she could really consider a friend has betrayed her… It burrows deep. She bites her lip and curses the second elevator to the cargo bay, wanting it to go faster.
When they reach the top the truth is clear. Shepard and Jack were right. She had been wrong. She had been wrong about the one thing she had to be right about.
Jack's upper lip curls in disgust. "Figures. You can buy everyone. Just like I said. Your 'friend' sold you out, Cheerleader. Don't blame him. But wouldn't blame you if you killed him. That's fucked up."
Betrayal stabs into Miranda like a fleet of knives. A conversation that changes nothing, that changes everything, ensues with Niket. Every word is a nail in his coffin, is a stab at her self-worth, at her identity, at what she had thought mattered. Her father had been able to buy everything, not only the best genes and biotics for her but also the only paragon of friendship she'd ever believed in. How could she have been so foolish?
Miranda is breathless but she doesn't hesitate. She has the necessary information. She has the last loose end ready to be disposed of. She can't allow it. Won't allow it. She will not risk Oriana, not for her feelings and attachments. Niket won't be used against her or Oriana again. Goddamn it, Niket.
She pulls the trigger. He falls over easier than the rest. He knew what she could do, what she would do. Why did he make her do it? It wasn't a test; it was suicide.
She doesn't have time to mourn, to think. There are more immediate matters at hand: making sure she stays alive long enough to ensure Oriana gets to safety, but before that, there's an asari bitch to take care of.
The fight with Enyala and the Eclipse mercenaries is a blur, more loose ends. At the end they achieve the predictable outcome: she, Shepard and Jack are alive, Enyala and her mercenaries are dead.
What's left to be done is simple, protocol. She'll make sure that Oriana and her family are safely transferred. A sweep of the parameter reveals no Eclipse mercenaries left. Miranda is left with a glimpse of her twin, her younger sister. The other her. The superior clone? Damn it all. It's complicated. Miranda wonders what might have been if things had been different. Oriana looks back at her. It's best to not talk to her. She can't risk it. She won't endanger Oriana for her own selfishness. It isn't about what she wants; it isn't about her feelings.
Shepard's convinced. "Okay. Let's go," She steps back into the elevator.
"Wait, that's it?" Jack asks. She doesn't go to the elevator yet. "We just juiced a fuckton of guys for this bitch." She looks at Miranda. "You're walking away just like that?"
Miranda doesn't know which 'bitch' Jack refers to. "We're not all so emotionally stunted as you are." She says. Whatever else she was going to say, she doesn't say it. Her voice is growing weaker and she can feel the trembling of her chin. Jack gets into the elevator. She won't cry, damn it. Her eyes fill with tears as the elevator doors close.
"This is bullshit." Jack continues. "What a waste of time."
Miranda fixates on the elevator numbers and memorizes every detail of Oriana's face. She wipes discreetly at her eyes. Jack is looking at her. They both quickly look away at something else.
Goodbye, Oriana.
Jack's slurping on a cup of noodles when she sees the commander. Jack coils the noodles around the fork and chews slowly. She's seen Kasumi do it with chopsticks but fuck that. It takes too damn long. Shepard sidles up next to her on the bar stool and Jack pulls her limbs closer to herself. It freaks her out when people sit too fucking close.
"Any reason you're giving me the stink eye, Jack?" Shepard asks, pointing Gardner to the liquor she wants. The Mess Sergeant pours Shepard a drink, a bright blue color, and sets it in front of the commander. "Let me clarify: any new reason?"
There isn't a reason. She hasn't been doing that. It's just—since Miranda's personal shit on Illium, she's been thinking. Miranda was 'kidnapping' Oriana around the time that Jack was being 'rescued' by Cerberus assholes who lied to whatever woman gave birth to her and told her she was dead.
Jack hadn't figured the Cerberus bitch cared about anyone. She knew how the situation in Illium was going to play out. What she hadn't expected was Miranda's fucked up history or seeing her so fucking upset by something as every day as betrayal. Or exhibiting any type of emotion towards something that wasn't work related. She fucking cried, for fuck's sake. Miranda's still just a Cerberus bitch. It's just that—maybe it isn't as simple as it always looks or whatever.
"No reason, Shepard." She has a bite of noodles. The broth is too salty, an unhealthy orange toxic color but there's nothing else to eat. Nothing edible. She could go back to drinking her way through the day but the commander probably wouldn't approve. "Maybe you could have pushed the Cheerleader to talk to her sister? You're always trying to come at me with that touchy-feely shit." And she hates it.
"You see any attempt at conversation as 'touchy-feely'," Shepard takes a drink of whatever it is Gardner handed to her. "Miranda's a grown woman and can make her own decisions. If she wanted to talk to Oriana she would have. She didn't need me to tell her what to do."
"She wanted to talk to her. Any dumbass could see that."
Shepard looks at Jack curiously before chuckling. "I'll be damned. I didn't know you cared, Jack."
Jack bites down hard on the fork and swears. How the fuck did she mess up chewing? Her tooth hurts. Her hunger dissipates. She slides off the stool, annoyed, the cup of noodles in her hand like a weapon. "Didn't know you made jokes, Shepard."
"I don't. You want to hold hands with Miranda? Be my guest."
"Fuck you, Commander." She throws the empty cup of noodles at Shepard who only shifts her head to the side. It misses her completely. Maybe Shepard's used to her tantrums. She doesn't even look bothered by it. Shepard's pissing her off. "When are we going? I'm getting tired of being onboard. You promised me action." Sitting around with all the thoughts in her head is making her go crazy. Crazier.
"So leave that hole you stay in. I'm meeting with Liara soon. Figured I'd bring Garrus and Tali so we can all get caught up." She finishes her drink and slides the shot glass back at Gardner. "You do… whatever it is that you do when you aren't killing people." She looks at the Styrofoam cup on the floor. "And pick up your fucking mess."
Jack settles her hands on her hips in a show of defiance. She waits until Shepard's left the level then she picks up the cup. Gardner knows better than to give her any fucking lip about it. If he tries she'll shove the cup of noodles up his ass with the fork still attached. Being on the fucking Normandy is getting to her. These people are getting to her. Not all of them are that bad—and that's just fucking weird. What's she thinking? She needs to focus on herself, no one else. Let someone get close, let someone talk to her long enough and they'll start thinking she's a friend. She isn't. Or she'll start thinking someone's a friend. They aren't.
She can't be trusted. No one can be trusted. At the end of the day it's always about your own fucking skin. Which is what really pisses her off about Miranda. She looks after mission objectives, Cerberus interests, Shepard's mission. Is she really that detached? Yeah, probably. Frigid bitch. She doesn't get it.
She's walked into Miranda's office before she knows it, the fucking cup of noodles still in her hand. She throws it away in Miranda's waste bin and gets a sarcastic 'thank you' from Miranda in return. "Your sister's pretty hot." Jack didn't see a family resemblance, luckily for Oriana.
Miranda is taken aback by the familial mention. Jack wonders how long it took for Miranda to push her away, bury her somewhere deep inside where she isn't easily accessible, where she can forget her. Jack could offer medications, drugs that Miranda could take to forget but Miranda isn't the sort to do it. Hazy and vague would probably scare the shit out of her.
"You're not her type." Miranda says. She sighs and her chair slides backward, not even an inch, but Jack knows when work is being put away, however briefly. Jack moves further into the office but doesn't sit. "It's unfortunate you had to see that."
"Embarrassed?"
"No. It isn't your business."
"Fuck you." Yeah, Shepard had given her access to the Cerberus files but how much access did she really get? She doesn't fully trust Shepard yet and for all she knows Miranda's hiding files by the day. That wasn't part of the deal but you always get screwed on deals, at least if you aren't the one holding the power. Power's more than your ability to kick ass. Like the Illusive Fuck and Miranda are so hard up about saying, information, intelligence, that's power. "You know everything about me."
"Not everything." Miranda stands. "Shepard was right. You did help clear the mercenaries faster than others might have. I could thank you."
Jack shrugs. "Don't want your thanks."
"So why are you here? You've never visited before."
"Probably because I can't stand you, Cerberus bitch."
"Then what do you want?" Miranda enunciates every word carefully as if doing so will get Jack to pay attention. Jack knows she hasn't answered the question. The truth is, she doesn't know why she's here or what the fuck she wants. She does know it isn't what Shepard said. She's beginning to suspect that Shepard's a psycho. That's the only way you get results sometimes. "Unlike you, I have a job." Miranda says. "It requires more than being let out of my cage to fight."
Jack doesn't react to the words but she feels them like a kick in the gut. She thinks of Pragia and Teltin. The only time she was allowed out of her room was to kill people in an arena, to fight other kids like her. Those little fucks never stood a chance. Every time she was out she was more powerful. Every time she was out it felt better and better to kill. She was good at it. People like to do the things they're good at. She only got better at it throughout the years. She learned to like it more. It's fucked up. Motherfucking Cerberus. And now she's here working for the fucking assholes that fucked her entire life. She scowls at Miranda. Letting her out of her cage, the bitch. "You'd know all about that, wouldn't you?"
"What are you talking about?" That same, tired way of asking.
"I think I'm starting to figure you out. You think if you don't talk about it, it doesn't exist? That's not how it works, Precious, nice as that would be. I don't want to waste my time doing this dance so I'll just get to it. You fucked it up with Oriana. If you want to talk to your sister, talk to your sister. Don't be a fucking pussy about it. You don't let the Commander make those kinds of decisions. That's your life—it has nothing to do with the fucking mission."
Miranda hesitates, quiet for a moment before forging forward. "It isn't your concern."
"Maybe. But you dragged me along to kill people for you, to kill people for her, so yeah, I'm gonna throw in my opinion." Jack takes a seat and crosses a leg crudely over the over. She drapes an arm on the armrest. "What's the matter? Scared you don't measure up to the new and improved model?"
"You're really enjoying this, aren't you?" Miranda moves to her bedroom to sit on one of the dull colored monochrome couches.
"Yep." Jack eventually stands and hovers near the door to the room. She isn't going to have a fucking conversation with a wall. Miranda's room is bare, lifeless. If it were to suggest anything about the woman it's that she's black and white, all business, no fun. On the other hand, Jack can admit that the new look Miranda's been sporting lately suits her or doesn't suit her, depending on how you look at it. She looks less like a whore, anyway. She doesn't know why Miranda moved to her room, maybe because it's less intimate than her office. Likely, she's just trying to get Jack to go away but she's not done bothering her yet.
"I don't want you talking about Oriana as if she's something off an assembly line. That isn't what she is."
Miranda reclines against the couch, a hard, solitary line creasing her eyebrow. Jack wonders about her movements, always graceful, hinging on provocative. What the fuck is she thinking? Her mind floods with images and sensations of the night in engineering. Fuck it. Fuck that. Jack makes a fist as if to intimidate the thoughts. "Isn't it? She was made." In a fucking lab. "Just like you. Just like me." Different methods but both just lab rats in the end.
Miranda's jaw tenses. "It isn't the same. You were born. Oriana and I…" Jack arches an eyebrow and waits. Miranda gives a small shake of her head, the matter dropped. She trails an idle hand along the stale couch material. "She's more than something that was 'created'. She's normal. Say what you will about you or me."
Jack scoffs. "What's so great about normal?"
"I think we both know. We both wish we knew." Miranda looks at her.
Jack averts her eyes. Normal. She never had a chance. Kidnapped when she was a kid, raised in a fucking lab with fucked up experiments being done on her, sold off as a slave later on. Making friends, killing friends, joining a cult. So many chances for her to give 'normal' a shot and she always fell short. Whatever. What's the point in thinking about it? Not like she can change any of that shit now. "You only laid eyes on her a few days ago. Why are you so attached?"
"I've monitored her for as long as I've known her. I've kept track of her every movement, every achievement, any interest she's taken in a boy, any talent she's excelled at."
"You're so predictable." Tracking progress. She remembers those scientists' faces, fucking beaming when she had another 'breakthrough'. Every 'breakthrough' usually involved breaking someone else into pieces or leaving them nothing but a puddle. "Your own sister was just another fucking project."
"No, she wasn't..!" Miranda gets to her feet. The black leather is shiny and distracting. Jack would rather look at her than listen to her. Then again, so would anyone else. "I don't have to explain myself to you."
"So don't. I'm not interested." Jack turns to go.
"I was proud of her, damn it." Miranda says. Jack stalls. "I still am. My little sister. My twin. She has a family that loves her, that appreciates her. She has the life and choices that I never did. Maybe I wouldn't live it the same way… but it's nice that she has the option."
"Huh." Jack reclines against the doorway again. "So all that shit on Illium with the tears and the brave speeches wasn't an act. Didn't figure you gave a damn about anything, Cheerleader. Except Cerberus." Now that she's said the words, she doesn't know what the point was. Miranda's still a bitch. So what if she cares about one thing?
"I'm full of surprises, Jack. I just don't like to show my hand."
"Why not? You show off everything else."
"Ah, another thinly veiled attack on my wardrobe. Clever. At least I wear a shirt."
"Whatever." She's going when Miranda grabs her arm. The cold, synthetic material of her glove on Jack's skin is jarring. Or maybe it's the gentle, suggestive pressure that gets to her. "What do you want?" Jack asks, she sounds like a little girl who has run into the boogeyman. Miranda doesn't say anything. Jack pulls her arm away. Miranda's hand falls back to her side. "That guy you killed, Niket? Was he your boyfriend or were you strictly fuck buddies?"
Once again, emotion sparks on Miranda's face before it is swiftly replaced by nonchalance. "Neither. Never was. It doesn't matter what he was. He's dead now."
"That was smart of you. I would have done the same."
"Is that supposed to reassure me? Don't compare us." She laughs softly. "What a joke."Jack frowns. Miranda's a pompous bitch. Always has been, always will be. Jack pushes her. She's unaware that she does so with a fist laced with biotic power. Miranda flies back, falling to the bed. It's unexpected for the both of them. Miranda lifts on her elbows. Jack glares at her. She's angry, angrier than she's been in a long time but she doesn't get why. She doesn't know how Miranda always manages to make her feel so goddamn stupid. "So that's why you're here," Miranda says. "You could have said so. We'd have saved ourselves a good deal of conversation."
"That's not why I'm here," Jack steps closer, her form crackling with unshed energy demanding to be spent.
"Why, then? Are you worried about me?"
"I couldn't give two shits about you."
"Good. I don't need your concern. I don't want you chasing after me, either. What happened in the engine room is best forgotten. It was nothing. An experiment. Boredom. You understand."
"Yeah. I understand." Jack goes to the bed with a sneer on her lips. She rests a knee on the bed before shoving Miranda back. Miranda's fast, sitting up so quickly that she's pressed to Jack's chest by the time the woman straddles her. Miranda watches her cautiously. "There's no point in screwing around," Jack's fingers are on the buttons of Miranda's bodysuit, ripping it back from her shoulders. "So I'll admit it: I'm here to fuck." It's the only explanation that makes sense. She can get down with that. Sex is a different game from caring, an easier one. "Your daddy bought you the best genes money could buy. Your personality's lousy but I'm not here for your personality." She breathes into her ear, "When people talk about your great qualities they always leave that part out."
Jack sees the hurt in Miranda's eyes. Jack's sure that Miranda isn't personally offended by what Jack just said; Jack's opinion isn't important enough to matter. But Miranda knows the truth when she hears it. Knows that she's nothing but a good looking husk with no other redeemable qualities. At least she has a good looking husk.
Jack seizes the opportunity. She kisses Miranda hard, tearing the rest of the Cerberus uniform from her and trapping her beneath. Miranda looks different without the gear. Jack can't put her finger on it. It isn't how she's built. Jack can't say that she's got any complaints about that. She'd be lying if she did. It's something in her eyes.
Doesn't matter.
Jack ditches her clothes, too. She wants Miranda to see who she's getting dirty with, the fucked up convict, the experiment, the girl you never take home to meet the parents, the filthy secret. Jack wants Miranda to be ashamed. She spreads Miranda's legs apart and presses tightly to her center until they both breathe unsteadily and make sounds that barely register as human. Miranda's hands are warm on her back, her fingernails dig deep into her skin, reaching for her insides. She can feel Miranda worming in, not just her body but into her mind. Every bone in Jack's body tells her to stop this right now and leave. But this is nothing. This is just the Cheerleader, no one to be afraid of. Jack holds Miranda's face in her hands, makes her look at her when she fucks her.
Miranda does and then closes her eyes. Jack doesn't know how that makes her feel. But she's not good at 'feeling' so it isn't a big deal. Guesses she wouldn't really want to look at herself either. Jack kisses her deep. Miranda's mouth is hot and soft.
Maybe she needed that.
Miranda can't deny that she's been frustrated lately, wound up tight. Her mind is at ease now that Oriana is safe but being assured that her sister is safe doesn't mean that she won't carry the regret with her. She knows that she did the right thing with Niket and with Oriana. She still wishes it'd turned out differently. The hurt isn't going to disappear right away. It took her longer than it should have to learn that.
Miranda sits up on the bed, the sheets draped over her. She hadn't meant for any of that to happen with Jack. Not again. The woman could be surprisingly…persistent. Miranda had only thought that Jack was good at one thing: killing. It turns out she's good at one other thing.
It doesn't matter. It shouldn't happen again. It was different before. Miranda had been in control and Jack… hadn't. "What am I doing?" She mutters. She leaves the bed and heads to the shower. The tall, rectangular steel hold is clinical and sterile. She should feel safe here. She should feel safe now that the business with Oriana is behind her. But she doesn't. And it has nothing to do with the Collectors. Her mind goes to her recent encounter with the young biotic. Miranda had never anticipated Jack would enter her thoughts while she was showering. It's disturbing. Luckily, no one ever has to know.
Miranda's aware that what's likely getting to her is the conversation they had about their experiences. Miranda has never spoken so intimately to anyone about that. Not even to Commander Shepard or Jacob. The Illusive Man only has basic details. Why Jack? Why the one person who above all hates what Miranda represents? On the surface it may appear as if she and Jack share things in common but… they don't. Not really. Jack will never understand how much Cerberus has given Miranda, how often it has saved her and her sister. Trying to explain it would be pointless.
Why had she let her in her office? Why had she taken Jack's arm when she'd tried to leave? All the little mistakes are beginning to add up. She closes her eyes and lets the cold water wash over her. She's overthinking it. It's her job to overthink things but not here, not now, not about this. It doesn't warrant this level of thought. Jack isn't worth thinking about.
Is she lonely…? Maybe having lost Oriana and Niket are the last painful reminders that outside of her work she's alone. No father, no sister, her only friend is dead, she can't have any children of her own…
Miranda cranks the water temperature until the freezing drops run along her and she's shaking.
She isn't lonely. Even if she were, it wouldn't matter. Sex is one thing. It's human, it's nature, as essential as breathing. Anything else, anything more is extravagance. Jack is incapable of even knowing what the word means. Miranda doesn't settle for anything less than the best. She certainly isn't going to compromise her state of mind or the mission to dabble with a tattooed, mentally unstable, psychotic junky convict.
It's time for her to stop screwing around. Oriana has been taken care of. Whatever it is that passed between her and Jack, whatever their possibilities, connection, dynamic… it doesn't matter. The threat of the Collectors is too real. Nothing else is allowed to interfere with her focus on the mission; that includes Subject Zero.
Miranda will stay away from her. Easy enough. She breathes a sigh of relief, her breath smoky in the chilly metal room.
Jack sits in the darkness. Stupid shit has been creeping into her head lately. Stuff she hasn't thought about in forever. People she had wiped from the abysses of her mind. The 'friends' she had. The other people who wanted more. Murtock. People who died so she could live. People she killed so she could live. Everything is coming out. She knocked on Miranda for her out of sight out of mind bullshit but this. Why does she keep expecting the darkness to fix it? It still exists inside of her. Doesn't matter if the light never touches it. That's why Logasiri didn't matter. But Teltin and Pragia, that will matter. She's talked to Shepard about it. Once Shepard gets off her ass and once Jack's there, once she's blown it to pieces…
She buries her face in her hands. What the hell is she doing? She should get out. Go upstairs, talk to people. But she hates everyone so that isn't an option. Not really gung-ho on running into Miranda. Or fucking Kasumi who's been grinning like an idiot at her lately. Did she see the scratches on her back? Does she know something? Or is she just fucking crazy? Could be both.
She hates feeling like a little girl. She'd thought finding the coordinates to the Teltin facility would solve it, or half of it. But lately all she feels is lost and small. Afraid. Nervous. Anxious. Every terrible feeling is surfacing. She doesn't know how to deal with it. Is it always going to be like this? Jack the biotic bitch against the galaxy? And once she's wiped everything out, what then?
Fuck. Fuck this. Fuck it all.
She presses her back to the uncomfortable steel wall. The cot gets to be hard on her ass and tailbone after a while. Not everyone has a big ass bed. Not that she needs one. Or would put it to use as often. Jack trails a thumb along her eyebrow as if she were only smudging paint on her face. What the fuck is she thinking about beds for? She needs her head examined. Not that she doesn't know what the docs would say.
She hears footsteps. Knows who they belong to by the weight and the measure of them. Jack straightens before resuming her normal posture. Who cares? Miranda comes around the corner, close enough so that the red light of engineering falls on her. Jack glances at her. Been a while. They're smart and keep away from one another. It was stupid to think and do otherwise. She doesn't know why Miranda's here. The whole point to her space is that there isn't much through traffic. Jack can't think of an opener but Miranda saves her the trouble.
"Shepard told me what you found."
"Shepard likes to talk."
"She asked me to come along."
Jack looks slowly to her and then away. Fucking bitch. Whatever. Miranda can come along. She can see what her precious Cerberus did to her. She can try to deny it then. "Won't argue with Shepard about it. Won't change the end result. As long as I can get in and do what I have to everything's square."
"Shepard said you plan on blowing it up."
"Yep."
"What will that help?"
"I don't need to tell you that." She squares her shoulders against the wall. And then she tells her. "You kill people to have peace of mind; I'll blow up some empty buildings. We have different ways of coping. Either way, it's none of your fucking business."
"I don't know what you're expecting to find there but whatever it is—"
"Save your excuses. Don't try to tell me what Cerberus did. I lived it for over ten years. You don't need to keep lying your ass off about it. I get it. Cerberus helped you and your kid sister. All they did was help themselves to me and my power. You have no idea what kind of torture they put me through. But hey. Who the fuck cares, right? It's just Jack. No one important."
"Nobody said that."
"They did it for more than a decade and Cerberus let them. You keep defending them. No one has to say it."
Miranda takes a seat next to her. Jack doesn't move. She doesn't have to look at her to know where she is. She's too close, either way. Jack rests her arms on her knees, lets them slip to her side before she pulls her knees to her chest and keeps her arms wrapped around them. Minutes pass without either one of them saying anything.
"I just need it gone," Jack says. She brings a hand to her head, feeling the itchy, bug-crawling-over-her feeling. Fuck. Miranda looks thoughtful about something. Jack doesn't know what. She just knows that she wants Miranda to go right away. She's got instincts and something's coming. Maybe Miranda doesn't know it but Jack does. She braces herself but doesn't know why she does. If Miranda tries something, she'll kill her.
"I hope it helps." Then: "One other thing. What we've done… We can't do it anymore." Jack doesn't say anything. "Did you hear me?"
Jack's throat clamps. Her fingers dig lightly into her knees. Her words remain breezy. "Not deaf, Cheerleader. I heard you."
"Neither one of us can afford distractions. The Collectors are coming. We need everyone at their best. I can't have the members of this crew questioning my professionalism or my priorities. It could cost lives."
"Gotcha." Jack waits until Miranda's standing before she looks at her. "It wasn't bad. It wasn't great. I'd preferred to have killed you but whatever. It's done. I was never planning on making it habit. I've got better shit to do." Miranda looks back evenly but Jack turns her eyes to the table across from her. She remembers how she used to hide under the tables when she got scared.
Miranda leaves. Jack sits in the darkness.
